Lucy Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
by Elphaba818
Summary: Lucy is back for her second year at Hogwarts with her twin brother Harry, only to discover the strange attacks on the Muggle-borns. With all the clues pointing at her and Harry as the attackers, how will she survive the year?
1. The Worst Birthday

**Like I promised, I managed to post this quickly. I've checked out the Chamber of Secrets from the library at my school, but because it's the end of the school-year, I can only have it for so many days. I'll try to write as much as I can during my short amount of time and post a few chapters. After that I suppose I'll swing by the library in my town and pick up a copy. Well, enough chitchat. Please enjoy the first chapter of book two in the Lucy Potter chronicles!**

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**Chapter One:** **The Worst Birthday**

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his niece and nephew Harry and Lucy's room.

"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you two can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"

Harry and Lucy tried, yet again, to explain.

"She's _bored,"_ Harry said. "She's used to flying around outside." Lucy nodded in agreement.

"Yes, if we could just let her out at night–"

"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's let out."

He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.

The twins tried to argue back, but their words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.

"I want more bacon."

"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while we've got the chance…. I don't like the sound of that school food…."

"Nonsense, Petunia. I never went hungry went I was at Smeltings," said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"

Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry and Lucy.

"Pass the frying pan, twits."

"You've forgotten the magic word," said Harry and Lucy irritably.

The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.

"We meant 'please!'" said Harry and Lucy quickly. "We didn't mean–"

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU TWO," thundered their uncle, spraying spit over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE 'M' WORD IN OUR HOUSE?"

"But we–" Harry began.

"HOW DARE YOU BOTH THREATEN DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.

"We just–" said Lucy.

"I WARNED YOU TWO! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITES UNDER THIS ROOF!"

Harry and Lucy stared from their purple-faced uncle, to their pale aunt, who was trying to heave Dudley to his feet.

"All right," said Harry and Lucy in unison. _"All right…"_

Uncle Vernon sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and watching Harry and Lucy closely out of the corner of his small, sharp eyes.

Ever since, Harry and Lucy had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Vernon had been treating them like bombs that might go off at any moment, because Harry and Lucy Potter _weren't_ normal children. As a matter of fact, they were as not normal as it is possible to be.

Harry Potter was a wizard, and Lucy Potter was a witch–a witch and wizard fresh from their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys were unhappy to have them both back for the holidays, it was nothing to how the twins felt.

They missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. They missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, their classes (though perhaps not Snape, the Potions master), the mail arriving my owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in the four-poster beds in the tower dormitories, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and, especially, Quidditch; the most popular sport in the wizarding world (six tall goal posts, four flying balls, and sixteen players on broomsticks).

All of Harry and Lucy's spellbooks, their wands, robes, cauldrons, and top of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand broomsticks had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs by Uncle Vernon the instant Harry and Lucy had come home. What did the Dursleys care if Harry and Lucy lost their places on the House Quidditch team because they hadn't practiced all summer? What was it to the Dursleys if Harry and Lucy went back to school without any of their homework done? The Dursleys were what witches and wizards called Muggles (not a drop of magical blood in their veins), and as far as they were concerned, having a witch and wizard in the family was a matter of deepest shame. Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Harry and Lucy's owl, Hedwig, inside her cage, to stop her from carrying messages to anyone in the magical world.

The twins looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blonde, pink, and porky. Harry and Lucy, on the other hand, were small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy, buy Lucy personally tried to tame by pulling it into trademark pigtails each day. Harry wore round glasses, and on both their foreheads were thin, lightning-shaped scars.

It was these scars that made Harry and Lucy so particularly unusual, even for a witch and wizard. These scars were the only hints of Harry and Lucy's very mysterious past, of the reason they had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep eleven years before.

At the age of one years old, Harry and Lucy had somehow survived a curse from the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry and Lucy's parents had died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry and Lucy had escaped with their lightning scars, and somehow–nobody understood why–Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry and Lucy.

So Harry and Lucy had been brought up by their dead mother's sister and her husband. They had spent ten years with the Dursleys, never understanding why they kept making odd things happen without meaning to, believing the Dursleys story that they had gotten their scars in the car crash that had killed their parents.

And then, exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to the twins, and the whole story had come out. Harry and Lucy had taken up their places at the magical school, where they and their scars were famous… but now the school year was over, and they were back with the Dursleys for the summer, back to being treated like dogs that had rolled in something smelly.

The Dursleys hadn't ever remembered that today happened to be Harry and Lucy's twelfth birthdays. Of course, their hopes hadn't been high; they'd never given either of them a real present, let alone a cake–but to ignore it completely…

At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."

The twins looked up, hardly daring to believe it.

"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.

Harry and Lucy went back to their slices of toast.

"Of course," Harry bitterly whispered to Lucy, "he's talking about that stupid dinner party…." Lucy nodded grimly. He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).

"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be–"

"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."

"Good, good. And Dudley?"

"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

"They'll_ love_ him!" said Aunt Petunia rapturously.

"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry and Lucy. _"And you two?"_

"Lucy and I will be in our bedroom, making no noise and pretending we're not there," said Harry tonelessly.

"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight-fifteen–"

"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.

"And, Dudley, you'll say–"

"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.

"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.

"_And you two?"_ said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry and Lucy.

"Harry and I will be in our room, making no noise and pretending we're not there," said Lucy dully.

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"

"Vernon tells me you're a _wonderful_ golfer, Mr. Mason…. _Do_ tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason…."

"Perfect… Dudley?"

"How about–'we had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and _I_ wrote about _you."_

This was too much for Aunt Petunia and Harry and Lucy. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry and Lucy ducked under the table so they wouldn't see them laughing.

"And you, Potters?"

Harry and Lucy fought to keep their faces straight as they emerged.

"We'll be in our room," said Harry.

"Making no noise," said Lucy.

"Pretending we're not there," they finished.

"Don't talk in unison, and too right, you both will," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "The Masons don't know anything about either of you and it's going to stay that way. When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. We'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."

Harry and Lucy couldn't feel too excited about this. They didn't think the Dursleys would like either of them any better in Majorca than they did on Privet Drive.

"Right–I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And _you two,"_ he snarled at Harry and Lucy. "You both stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."

The twins left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day. They both crossed the lawn, and slumped down together on the garden bench.

"Happy birthday to us… happy birthday to us…" Harry sang under his breath so only Lucy would hear him.

"No cards, no presents…" Lucy quietly sang back. "Happy birthday to us…"

They stared sadly at each other before gazing miserably into the hedge. Though they had each other, neither of them had ever felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry and Lucy missed their best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They, however, didn't seem to be missing them at all. Neither of them had written to the twins all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry and Lucy to come and stay.

Countless times, Harry and Lucy had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig's cage by magic and sending her to Ron and Hermione with letters, but it wasn't worth the risk. Underage witches and wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside school. Harry and Lucy hadn't told the Dursleys this; they knew it was only their terror that one of them might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking both of _them_ in the cupboard under the stairs with their wands and broomsticks. For the first couple of weeks back, Harry and Lucy couldn't help but enjoy muttering nonsense words under their breath and watching Dudley tear out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from Ron and Hermione had made the twins so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal–and now Ron and Hermione had forgotten their birthday.

What wouldn't they give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? They'd almost be glad of a sight of Harry's arch-enemy, Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream…. Though Lucy would most likely be much happier to see him than Harry would be. She had never told anyone, but Lucy had a small crush on the blonde Slytherin boy.

Not that their whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of last term, Harry and Lucy had come face-to-face with none other than Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but he was still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power. Harry and Lucy had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry and Lucy kept waking in the night, both of them drenched in cold sweat, wondering where Voldemort was now, remembering his livid face, his wide, mad eyes–

Harry and Lucy suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. They had both been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge–_and the hedge was staring back._ Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

Harry and Lucy both jumped up just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.

"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward them.

The huge eyes blinked and vanished.

"What?" said the twins, neither of them taking their eyes off the spot where the eyes had been.

"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to them.

"Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."

"Maybe you've be able to learn how to use the television program schedule's, now," said Lucy.

"Today's your _birthday's,"_ sneered Dudley. "How come you twits haven't got any cards? Haven't either of you even got friends at that freak place?"

"Better not let your mum hear you talking about our school," said Harry coolly.

Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.

"Why're you two staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.

"We were trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire," said Lucy.

Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.

"You c-can't–Dad told you two you're not to do m-magic–he said he'll chuck you both out of the house–and you twits haven't got anywhere else to go–neither of you have got any _friends_ to take–"

"_Jiggery pokery!"_ said Harry in a fierce voice. _"Hocus pocus!"_

"_Squiggly wiggly!"_ said Lucy strongly. _"Abra kadabra_–_"_

"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house. "MUUUUM! They're doing you know what!"

The twins paid dearly for their moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew they hadn't really done magic, but both of them still had to duck as she aimed heavy blows at their heads with the soapy frying pan. Then she gave them work to do, with the promise that neither of them would eat again until they were both finished.

While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, and mowed the lawn as Lucy trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the backs of their necks. Harry and Lucy knew they shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said the very thing that they had been thinking themselves… maybe they _didn't _have any friends at Hogwarts….

"Wish they could see the famous Potter Twins, now," Lucy mumbled savagely as she spread manure on the flowerbeds, her back aching and sweat running down the sides of her face.

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly as he brushed some of his sweaty hair out of his eyes. "We're practically being treated like slaves here in the Muggle world."

It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, they heard Aunt Petunia calling them.

"Both of you get in here! And walk on the newspapers!"

Harry and Lucy moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a large mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.

"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and lumps of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.

The twins washed their hands and bolted down their pitiful suppers. The moment they had both finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away their plates. "Upstairs! Hurry!"

As they passed the door to the living room, Harry and Lucy caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bowties and dinner jackets. They had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Remember, Potters–one sound–"

Harry and Lucy crossed to their bedroom on tiptoe, slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on their beds.

The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on Harry's.


	2. Dobby's Warning

**I'm posting this instead of studying for my Social Studies final exam, so please be grateful for this next chapter!**

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**Chapter Two: ****Dobby's Warning**

Harry and Lucy managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little creature on Harry's bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. The twins knew instantly that this was what had been watching both of them out of the garden hedge that morning.

As they stared at each other, Harry and Lucy heard Dudley's voice from the hall.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

The creature slipped off of Harry's bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry and Lucy noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.

"Er–hello," said Harry nervously.

"Hi…." Said Lucy with equal awkwardness.

"Harry and Lucy Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice that the twins were sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you both, sir, miss… Such an honor it is…."

"Th–thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking his and Lucy's shared desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage as Lucy sat down on the edge of her bed. She wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude, so instead she said,

"Who are you?"

"Dobby, miss. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

"Oh–really?" said Lucy. "Er–I don't want to be rude or anything, but–this isn't a great time for Harry and me to have a house-elf in our bedroom."

Aunt Petunia's high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf hung his head.

"Not that we're not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason why you're here?"

"Oh, yes," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir, miss… it is difficult, sir, miss… Dobby wonders where to begin…."

"Sit down," said Harry and Lucy politely, both of them pointing to Harry's bed.

To their horror, the elf burst into tears–very noisy tears.

"_S_–_sit down!"_ he wailed. _"Never… never ever…"_

Harry and Lucy thought they heard the voices downstairs falter.

"We're sorry," Lucy whispered. "We didn't mean to offend you or anything–"

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has _never_ been asked to sit down by a witch or wizard aside from Young Master–like an _equal_–_"_

The twins, both trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto Harry's bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry and Lucy in an expression of watery adoration.

"You can't have met many decent witches or wizards aside from your Young Master, then," said Lucy, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, _"Bad_ Dobby! _Bad _Dobby!"

"Don't–what are you doing?" Harry hissed, he and Lucy springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed–Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir, miss," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of Dobby's family…."

"Your family?" they questioned.

"Young Master's wizard family that Dobby serves, sir, miss…. Dobby is a house-elf–bound to serve one house and one family forever…."

"Does your Young Master or anyone else know you're here?" asked Lucy curiously.

Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, miss, no… Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you both, sir, miss. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew–"

"But wouldn't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts any aside from Young Master will, sir. But Young Master will think that Dobby was punished for something and after punished himself. Old Master lets Dobby get on with it, sir, miss. Sometimes Old Master reminds Dobby to do extra punishments…."

"But why don't you leave? Escape?" said Lucy.

"A house-elf must be set free, miss. And Old Master will never set Dobby free… Dobby will serve his family until he dies…."

Harry and Lucy stared.

"And we thought we had it bad staying here for another four weeks," Harry said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human." Lucy nodded.

"But can't anyone help you?" she asked. "Couldn't we?"

"Yes, is there anything we can do?"

Almost at once, Harry and Lucy wished they hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here–"

"Harry and Lucy Potter ask if they can help Dobby… Dobby has heard of your greatness's, sir, miss, but of your goodness's, Dobby never knew…"

Harry and Lucy grew distinctly hot in the face.

"Whatever you've heard about our greatness is a load of rubbish," said Harry.

"Yes, we're not even top of our year at Hogwarts," said Lucy. "That's Hermione, she–"

But she stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.

"Harry and Lucy Potter are humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry and Lucy Potter speaks not of their triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name–"

"Voldemort?" said Harry and Lucy.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir, miss! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "We know lots of people don't like it. Our friend Ron–"

He stopped. Thinking about Ron was painful for them, too.

Dobby leaned toward the twins, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry and Lucy Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago… that Harry and Lucy Potter escaped _yet again."_

Harry and Lucy nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.

"Ah, sir, miss," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry and Lucy Potter are both valiant and bold! They has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry and Lucy Potter, to warn them, even if he _does_ have to shut his ears in the oven door later…._ Harry and Lucy Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."_

There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"Wh–what?" Harry stammered. "But we've got to go back–term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping us going."

"You don't know what it's like here for us," said Lucy. "Harry and I don't _belong_ here. We belong in your world–at Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry and Lucy Potter must stay where they is safe. They are too great, too good, to lose. If Harry and Lucy Potter go back to Hogwarts, they will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said the twins in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir, miss. Harry and Lucy Potter must not put themselves in peril. They is both too important, sir, miss."

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once.

"Who's plotting them?" said Lucy frantically.

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cried Harry, he and Lucy grabbing the elf's arms to stop him. "You can't tell us. We understand. But why are you warning _us?"_ A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on–this hasn't got anything to do with Vol- –sorry–with You-Know-Who, has it?"

"Just nod or shake your head," Lucy added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not–not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,_ sir, miss–"

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry and Lucy a hint. Harry and Lucy, however, were completely lost.

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"

"Or a sister?"

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "Can you, Luce?" Lucy shook her head.

"No, not with Dumbledore there–you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bowed his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir, miss. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir, miss" –Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper–"there are powers Dumbledore doesn't… powers no decent witch or wizard…"

And before Harry or Lucy could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized the lamp on Lucy's desk, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later, Harry and Lucy, hearts thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

"Quick! The closet!" hissed Lucy. They stuffed Dobby in, shut the door, and flung themselves onto their beds just as the door handle turned.

"What–the–_devil_–are–you–two–doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face a nasty shade of purple. "You two just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joker…. One more sound and you'll both wish you'd never been born, Potters!"

He stomped flat-footed from the room.

Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.

"See what it's like here?" he said. "See why we've got to go back?"

"We think of Hogwarts more as our real home than here with the Dursleys," Lucy said. "It's the only place we've got–well, where we _think_ we've got friends."

"Friends who don't even_ write_ to Harry and Lucy Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"Well, we expect they've just been–"

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. "How do _you_ know our friends haven't been writing to us?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry and Lucy Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best–"

"_Have you been stopping our letters?"_ the twins demanded.

"Dobby has them here, sir, miss," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry and Lucy's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry and Lucy could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry and Lucy.

"Harry and Lucy Potter mustn't be angry…. Dobby hoped… if Harry and Lucy Potter thought their friends had forgotten them…. Harry and Lucy Potter might not want to go back to school, sir, miss…."

Harry and Luc y weren't listening. They both made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.

"Harry and Lucy Potter will have them, sir, miss, if they give Dobby their word they will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, miss, this is a danger both of you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir, miss!"

"No," Lucy said angrily. "Give us our friends' letters!"

"Then Harry and Lucy Potter leave Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.

Before either of the twins could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs.

Mouths dry and stomachs lurching, Harry and Lucy sprang after him, both of them trying not to make a sound. They jumped the last few steps, landing quietly on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room they heard Uncle Vernon saying, "…tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear…"

The twins ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt their stomachs disappear as they instinctively grabbed each other's hands.

Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

"No," croaked Harry. "Don't do it…"

"Please," whispered a white-faced Lucy. "They'll kill us…."

"Harry and Lucy Potter must say they're not going back to school–"

"Dobby… please…"

"We beg you…"

"Say it, sir, miss–"

"We can't–"

Dobby gave them a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, miss, for Harry and Lucy Potter's own good."

The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.

There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harry and Lucy, both rigid from shock, covered from head to toe in Aunt Petunia's pudding.

At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our niece and nephew–both very disturbed–meeting strangers upset them, so we kept them upstairs….") He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harry and Lucy he would flay them both to within an inch of their lives when the Masons had left, and handed them each a mop. Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and the twins, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean.

Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal–if it hadn't been for the owl.

Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.

Harry and Lucy stood in the kitchen, clutching their mops for support, as Uncle Vernon advanced on them, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes.

"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on–read it!"

Harry took it and Lucy looked over his shoulder to read. It did not contain birthday greetings.

Dear Mr. and Ms. Potter,

We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.

As you both know, underage witches and wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your parts may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We would also ask both of you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

Enjoy your holidays!

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry and Lucy looked up from the letter and gulped.

"You two didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "Forgot to mention it…. Slipped your minds, I daresay…."

He was beating down on Harry and Lucy like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. "Well, I've got news for you, Potters…. I'm locking both of you up…. You're never going back to that school… never… and if you two try and magic yourselves out–they'll expel you both!"

And laughing like a maniac, he dragged Harry and Lucy back upstairs.

Uncle Vernon was as bad as his word. The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on Harry and Lucy's window. He himself fitted a cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside three times a day. They let Harry and Lucy out to use the bathroom morning and evening. Otherwise, they were locked in their room around the clock.

* * *

Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no signs of relenting, and neither Harry nor Lucy could see any way out of their situation. They sat on their beds watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window and talked miserably on what they ought to do.

"Maybe we should just use magic to get out of this prison."

"And risk expulsion?"

"What else can we do? The Dursleys have reached a new low, even for them."

"True, but if we never show up at Hogwarts they might send someone to investigate, and they might be able to force the Dursleys to let us go."

"That's even _if_ we're still alive in another four weeks, Harry."

They sighed. Now that the Dursleys knew they weren't going to wake up as fruit bars, they had lost their only weapon. Dobby might have saved Harry and Lucy from horrible happenings at Hogwarts, but the way things were going, they'd probably starve to death anyway.

The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunia's hand appeared, pushing two bowls of canned soup into the room. Harry and Lucy, whose insides were both aching with hunger, jumped off their beds and seized them. The soups were stone cold, but they shared one of the bowls. Then they crossed the room to Hedwig's cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bottom of the second bowl into her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers and gave them both a look of deep disgust.

"It's no good turning your beak up at it–that's all we've got," said Harry grimly as Lucy put the empty bowls back on the floor next to the cat-flap. Then they laid down together on Harry's bed, somehow even hungrier than they had been before the soup.

The room was growing dark. Exhausted and with rumbling stomachs, the twins fell into an uneasy sleep.

They both dreamed that they were on show in a zoo, with a card reading UNDERAGE WITCH AND WIZARD attached to their cage. People goggled through the bars at them as they laid, starving and weak, on a single bed of straw. They saw Dobby's face in the crowd and they shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby called, "Harry and Lucy are safe there, sir, miss!" and vanished. Then the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at them.

"Stop it," Harry muttered as the rattling pounded in his and Lucy's sore heads. "Leave us alone…."

"Cut it out," Lucy moaned as she snuggled her way deeper into the thin sheets of Harry's bed. "Go away… we're trying to sleep…."

They opened their eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone _was_ goggling through the bars at them: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.

Ron Weasley was outside Harry and Lucy's window.


	3. The Burrow

**Again, I'm posting this instead of studying for final exams. So please be grateful and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Three:****The Burrow**

"_Ron!"_ breathed the twins, creeping to the window and pushing it up so they could talk through the bars. "Ron, how did you–What the–?"

Harry and Lucy's mouths fell open as the full impact of what they were seeing hit them. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked _in midair._ Grinning at Harry and Lucy from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers.

"All right, Harry, Lucy?" asked George.

"What's been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven't you two been answering my letters? I've asked you guys to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you both got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles–"

"It wasn't us–and how did he know?" said Lucy.

"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You _know _we're not supposed to do spells outside school–"

"You should talk," said Harry, staring at the floating car.

"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron. "We're only borrowing this. It's Dad's, _we_ didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with–"

"We told you, we didn't–"

"It'll take too long to explain now. Look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked us up and won't let us come back, and obviously we can't magic ourselves out, because the Ministry will think that's the second spell we've done in three days, so–"

"Stop gibbering, Harry," said Ron. "We've come to take you and Lucy home with us."

"But you can't magic us out either–"

"We don't need to," said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. "You both forgot who I've got with me."

"Tie that around the bars," said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry and Lucy.

"If the Dursleys wake up, we're dead," said Lucy as they both tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.

"Don't worry," said Fred, "and stand back."

Harry and Lucy moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Harry and Lucy ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car. Harry and Lucy listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursleys' bedroom.

When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed as close as possible to Harry and Lucy's window.

"Get in," Ron said.

"But all our Hogwarts stuff–our wands–our broomsticks–"

"Where is it?"

"Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and we can't get out of this room–"

"No problem," said George from the front passenger seat. "Out of the way, Harry, Lucy."

Fred and George climbed catlike through the window into Harry and Lucy's room. You had to hand it to them, thought the twins, as George took an ordinary hairpin from his pocket and started to pick the lock.

"A lot of witches and wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick," said Fred, "but we feel they're skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow."

There was a small click and the door swung open.

"So–we'll get your trunks–you two grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron," whispered George.

"Watch out for the bottom stair–it creaks," Harry whispered back as the Weasley twins disappeared onto the dark landing.

Harry and Lucy dashed around their room, collecting their things and passing them out of the window to Ron. Then they went to help Fred and George heave their trunks up the stairs. Harry and Lucy heard Uncle Vernon cough.

At last, panting, they reached the landing, and then carried the trunks through Harry and Lucy's room to the open window. Fred climbed back into the car to pull with Ron, and Harry, Lucy, and George pushed from the bedroom side. Inch by inch, Harry's truck slid through the window. Then they hoisted Lucy's up.

Uncle Vernon coughed again.

"A bit more," panted Fred, who was pulling from inside the car. "One good push–"

Harry, Lucy, and George threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid out of the window and into the back seat of the car.

"Okay, let's go," George whispered.

But as Harry and Lucy climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud screech from behind them, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"THAT RUDDY OWL!"

"We forgot Hedwig!"

Lucy shoved Harry inside the car before tearing across the room as the landing light clicked on–she snatched up Hedwig's cage, dashed to the window, and passed it out to Harry and Ron. She was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door–and it crashed open.

For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed in the doorway; then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at Lucy, grabbing her by the ankle.

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George seized Lucy's arms and pulled as hard as they could.

"Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "They're getting away! THEY'RE GETTING AWAY!"

"Let go of me!" Lucy shouted as she tried to kick him in the face with her free foot.

"OH, NO!" he thundered, dodging her kicks. "YOU TWO AND THAT BLOODY PIGEON AREN'T GOING ANYWHERE!"

But Harry and the Weasleys gave a gigantic tug and Lucy's leg slid out of Uncle Vernon's grasp–Lucy was in the car–she'd slammed the door shut–

"Put your foot down, Fred! Drive!" yelled Ron, and the car shot suddenly toward the moon.

Harry and Lucy couldn't believe it–they were free. They rolled down one of the windows, the night air whipping their hair, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry and Lucy's window.

"See you next summer!" Harry and Lucy yelled together.

The Weasleys roared with laughter and Harry and Lucy settled back in their seats, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

"Let Hedwig out," Harry told Ron. "She can fly behind us."

"She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings and fly since we came home from Hogwarts," Lucy added.

George handed the hairpin to Ron and a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.

"So–what's the story, Harry, Lucy?" said Ron impatiently. "What's been happening?"

Harry and Lucy told them all about Dobby, the warning he'd given them and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence when they had finished.

"Very fishy," said Fred finally.

"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you guys who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"We don't think we could," said Harry. "We told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."

Harry and Lucy saw Fred and George look at each other.

"What? Do you think he was lying to us?" said Lucy.

"Well," said Fred, "put it this way–house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you two from coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can either of you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you two?"

"Yes," said Harry instantly. "Draco Malfoy. He hates us."

"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry. "Why?"

"I've heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at the twins. "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung–Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle."

Harry and Lucy had heard these rumors about Malfoy's family before and they didn't surprise them at all. Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look like a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive boy.

"B-but, Dobby kept saying that his Young Master is very kind, and that his Old Master was the cruel one," said Lucy timidly as she bent her head so none of them would see her pink cheeks. "I-I doubt that he could have been referring to Draco when he said that, and besides, we don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf…."

"Well, you could be right there about the whole Young Master part, Lucy," said Fred. "But one thing is for certain: Whoever owns him will be an old Wizarding family, and they're bound to be rich."

"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house…."

Harry and Lucy were silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizard gold; they both could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop Harry and Lucy from going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had Harry and Lucy been stupid to take Dobby seriously?

"I'm glad we came to get you both, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting really worried when you guys didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first–"

"Who's Errol?" said Harry and Lucy.

"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes–"

"_Who?"_ said the twins.

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," said Fred from the front.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron. "Said he needed him."

"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he _has_ been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room…. I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge…. You're driving too far west, Fred," he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Fred twiddled the steering wheel.

"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" said Lucy, guessing the answer.

"Er, no," said Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."

"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?" said Harry.

"He works in the most boring department," said Ron. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"The _what?"_ said Harry and Lucy.

"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antique shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare–Dad was working overtime for weeks."

"What happened?"

"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic–it's only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office–and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up–"

"But your dad–"

"This car–"

Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided_ our_ house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."

"That's the main road," said George, peering down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes…. Just as well, it's getting light…."

A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east.

Fred brought the car lower, and Harry and Lucy saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.

"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole."

Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees.

"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry and Lucy looked out for the first time at Ron's house.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, the twins reminded themselves, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

"It's not much," said Ron. "But it's home."

"It's_ wonderful,"_ said Harry happily, he and Lucy thinking about Privet Drive.

"_Brilliant,_ even," said Lucy.

They got out of the car.

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and Lucy and no one need ever know we flew the car."

"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, Lucy, I sleep at the–at the top–"

Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The other four wheeled around.

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toot tiger.

"_Ah,"_ said Fred.

"Oh, dear," said George.

Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.

"_So,"_ she said.

"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to–"

All three of Mrs. Weasleys sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.

"_Bed empty! No note! Car gone_–_could have crashed_–_out of my mind with worry_–_did you care?_ –_Never, as long as I've lived_–_you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy_–_"_

"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have_ died,_ you could have been _seen,_ you could have lost your father his _job_–_"_

It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry and Lucy, who both backed away.

"I'm very pleased to see you both, Harry, Lucy, dears," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."

She turned and walked back into the house and Harry and Lucy, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and the twins sat down on the edge of their seats, both of them looking around. They had never been in a wizard house before.

The clock on the wall opposite them had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like _Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, _and_ You're late._ Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like_ Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantments in Baking, _and_ One Minute Feasts_–_It's Magic!_ And unless Harry and Lucy's ears were deceiving them, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around the, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like, "don't know _what_ you were thinking of," and _"never_ would have believed it."

"I don't blame either of _you,_ dears," she assured Harry and Lucy, tipping eight or nine sausages onto each of their plates. "Arthur and I have been worried about both of you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you both ourselves in you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really" (she was now adding three fried eggs to their plates), "flying an illegal car halfway across the country–anyone could have seen you–"

She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clicking gently in the background.

"It was _cloudy,_ Mum!" said Fred.

"You keep your mouth closed when you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"They were starving them, Mum!" said George.

"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry and Lucy bread and buttering it for them.

At that moment there was diversion in the form of a small, red-headed figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.

"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry and Lucy. "My sister. She's been talking you guys all summer."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autographs, Harry, Lucy," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all five plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.

"_Blimey,_ I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to be and–"

"You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again–"

"Oh, Mum–"

"And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and George. "You can both go up to bed, dears," she added to Harry and Lucy. "Neither of you asked them to fly that wretched car–"

But Harry and Lucy, who both felt wide awake, shook their heads.

"We'll help Ron."

"Yes, we've never seen a de-gnoming before."

"That's very sweet of you, dears, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's se what Lockhart's got to say on the subject–"

And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned.

"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden–"

Harry and Lucy looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters was the words_ Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests._ There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-looking wizard with wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the Wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who the twins supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him.

"Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book…."

"Mum_ fancies_ him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in the garden when I come out to inspect it."

Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry and Lucy behind them. The garden was large, and in Harry and Lucy's eyes, exactly what a garden should be. The Dursleys wouldn't have liked it–there were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting–but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants Harry and Lucy had never seen spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs.

"Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know," Harry told Ron as they crossed the lawn.

"Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron, bent down with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods…."

"Er–yeah, I guess you could call them that," said Lucy.

There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered, and Ron straightened up. _"This_ is a gnome," he said grimly.

"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.

It was certainly nothing like Santa Claus. It was mall and leathery looking, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato. Ron held it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its horny little feet; he grasped in around the ankles and turned it upside down.

"This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnome above his head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked looks on Harry and Lucy's faces, Ron added, "It doesn't _hurt_ them–you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnomeholes."

He let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.

"Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."

Harry and Lucy learned quickly not to feel too sorry for the gnomes. They decided just to drop the first one's the caught over the hedge, but the gnomes, sensing weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into Harry's finger and painfully yanked on one of Lucy's pigtails. They had a hard job shaking them off–until–

"Wow, Harry, Lucy–those must've been fifty feet…."

The air was soon thick with flying gnomes.

"See, they're not too bright," said George, seizing five or six gnomes at once. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay put."

Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.

"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here…. Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny…."

Just then, the front door slammed.

"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"

They hurried through the garden and back into the house.

Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around them. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned."

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away fro questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness…."

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it…. Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking–they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face…. But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe–"

"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"

Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.

"C-cars, Molly, dear?"

"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while_ really_ he was enchanting it to make it _fly."_

Mr. Weasley blinked.

"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if–er–he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth…. There's a loophole in the law, you'll find…. As long as he wasn't _intending_ to fly the car, the fact that the car_ could_ fly wouldn't–"

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry and Lucy arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry and Lucy?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry and Lucy who?"

He looked around, saw Harry and Lucy, and jumped.

"Good lord, is it Harry and Lucy Potter? Very pleased to meet you both, Ron's told us so much about–"

"_Your sons flew that car to Harry and Lucy's house and back last night!"_ shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right? I–I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes, "That–that was very wrong, boys–very wrong indeed…."

"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry and Lucy as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you guys my bedroom."

They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house. On the third landing, a door stood agar. Harry and Lucy just caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at them before it closed with a snap.

"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally–"

They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying RONALD'S ROOM.

The twins stepped in, their heads almost touching the sloping ceiling, and they both blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry and Lucy realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

"Your Quidditch team?" said Harry.

"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazed with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle._ Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.

Harry and Lucy stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the tiny window In the field far below they could see a gang of gnomes sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys' hedge. Then they turned to look at Ron, who was watching them almost nervously, as though waiting for their opinions.

"It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like that room you guys had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning…."

But Harry and Lucy grinned widely.

"This is the best house we've ever been in."

"We wouldn't change a single thing."

Ron's ears went pink.


	4. At Flourish and Blotts

**I have decided not to make up any stupid excuses as to why I have taken so long to post this next chapter, because there are none. Now that it's summer vacation, I find myself watching more anime and playing video games instead of writing, because I usually write most of my fanfiction in notebooks during the time I'm supposed to be taking notes during school, and then copy it onto my laptop. I do promise however to try and make a better effort at updating though, so please be patient, my dear readers and reviewers!**

* * *

**Chapter Four:****At Flourish and Blotts**

Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life at Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered, the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry and Lucy got a shock the first time they looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, _"Tuck your shirt in, scruffy! And brush your hair, lazybones!"_ The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What Harry and Lucy found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like them.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of their socks and tried to force both of them to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry and Lucy to sit on either side of him at the dinner table so that he could bombard them with question about life with Muggles, asking them to explain how things like plugs and rubber ducks and the postal service worked.

"_Fascinating!"_ he would say as Harry and Lucy talked him through using a telephone. _"Ingenious,_ really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."

Harry and Lucy heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after they had arrived at the Burrow. They and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. The twins had figured out early on that it wasn't both of them that made Ginny very prone to knocking things over whenever they entered a room, but Harry in particular. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him as Lucy, who had been trying for several days now to befriend Ginny, tried to help her mop up the spilled porridge.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry, Lucy, and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry, Lucy–doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.

For a few minutes there was a silence as they all read their letters. Harry and Lucy's told them the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also lists of the new books they'd need for the coming year.

SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags_by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry and Lucy's.

"You two've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan–bet it's a witch."

At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockharts books are really expensive…."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately, no one saw this except Harry and Lucy, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster–at least, that was what Harry and Lucy both thought it was, until they saw it was breathing.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. _"Finally_–he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you two from the Dursleys."

He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:

"'_Dear Ron, and Harry and Lucy if you're there,_

"'_I hope everything went all right and that Harry and Lucy are okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get them out, Ron, because that would get Harry and Lucy into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry and Lucy are all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish this one off._

"'_I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course,' _How _can_ she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation! –_'And we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?_

"'_Let me know what's happening as soon as you can._

_Love,_

_Hermione"_

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

Harry, Lucy, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high. They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; so instead they threw apples for one another to catch. They all took turns riding Harry and Lucy's Nimbus Two Thousands, which were easily the best brooms; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.

Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry and Lucy had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you two did; twelve O.W.L.'s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry and Lucy's puzzled looks. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry and Lucy had never met either of them, but they did know that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill was in Egypt working for the wizards' bank, Gringotts.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Four sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…."

Harry and Lucy discreetly glanced at each other. They felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that their parents had left them. Of course, it was only in the magical world that they had money; they couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in any Muggle shops. They had never mentioned their Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; they didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today…. Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry, Lucy, dears!"

And she offered them the flowerpot.

Harry and Lucy stared at each other for a moment before looking back at the Weasleys, who were all watching them expectantly.

"W-what are we supposed to do?" Harry stuttered.

"They've never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, Lucy, I forgot."

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you both get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"Hagrid took us there on the Underground," Lucy explained.

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there _escapators?_ How exactly–"

"Not _now,_ Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dears, but goodness me, if neither of you've used it before–"

"They'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, Lucy, watch us first."

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"You must speak clearly, dears," Mrs. Weasley told the twins as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate…."

"The right what?" said Lucy nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly–"

"They'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.

"But, dear, if they get lost, how would we explain it to their aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "We doubt they'd even care."

"Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke, actually, if we got lost up a chimney," said Lucy. "Don't worry about that–"

"Well… alright… you both go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going–"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And keep your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot–"

"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or both of you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace–"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry and Lucy each took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. They both took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and they stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; they both opened their mouths and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"D-Diagon Alley," they coughed.

It felt as though they were being sucked down a giant drain. They seemed to be spinning very fast–the roaring in their ears was deafening–they squeezed each other's hands tightly and tried to keep their eyes open but the whirl of green flames made them both feel sick–something hard knocked Harry's elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning–now it felt as though cold hands were slapping Lucy's face–squinting through their eyes they saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond–their bacon sandwiches were churning inside them–they closed their eyes again wishing it would stop, and then–

Harry fell, dragging Lucy behind him, face forward, onto the cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses snap.

"Harry! Are you okay?"

"Ow… I'm fine except for my glasses. What about you?"

"Well, I've been better, but I'll live…."

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, they gingerly got to their feet. Harry had to hold his broken glasses up to his eyes. They were quite alone, but _where_ they were, they had no idea. All either of them could tell was that they were standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop–but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry and Lucy could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

"What is this place?" Lucy murmured.

"No idea," said Harry, "but the sooner we get out of here, the better. We need to find the Weasleys."

"Yeah, you're right. Let's go."

Nose still stinging where it hit the hearth, Harry led the way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before they'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass–and one of them, albeit for different reasons, was the very last person Harry and Lucy wanted to meet when they were both lost, covered in soot, and in Harry's case, wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Harry and Lucy looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to their left; they shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical, cold gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry and Lucy Potter got Nimbus Two Thousands last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so they could play for Gryffindor. They're not even that good, it's just because they're _famous…_ famous for having stupid _scars_ on their foreheads…."

Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

"And you want my reasoning for this? Then just look at Lucy Potter!"

Lucy went rigid.

"She's so _timid!_ How she got into Gryffindor and not Hufflepuff is a complete mystery to me, what with that _stupid_ stutter of hers! And if people weren't so blinded by the fact she's famous, they'd open their eyes and see just how _ugly _she really is!"

Lucy fought back tears.

"She looks like she's eight years-old with those stupid pigtails she always wears, and her eyes are way too close together! She just follows her brother along like a lost puppy because she likes to gloat in the attention that they get whenever they're together… everyone thinks they're so _smart,_ wonderful_ Potter's_ with their _scars_ and their _broomsticks_–_"_

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it's not–prudent–to appear less than fond of Harry and Lucy Potter, not when most of our kind regard them as the heroes who made the Dark Lord disappear–ah, Mr. Borgin."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted–and young Master Malfoy, too–charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced–"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few–ah–items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…."

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act–no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it–"

Harry and Lucy both felt a surge of anger.

"–And as you see, certain of these poisons might make it _appear_–_"_

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see…"

"Can I have _that?"_ interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir!"

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant–"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for–"

"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger–"

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry. Lucy shushed him to be quiet.

"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere–"

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin. I have important business elsewhere today–"

They started to haggle. Harry and Lucy watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to their hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, _Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed_–_Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date._

Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward–he stretched out his hand for the handle–

"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco–"

Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve and Lucy let out a sleep sigh of relief as Draco turned away.

"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."

The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"Good day to you, _Mister_ Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your _manor…."_

Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. The twins waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as they could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.

Harry, clutching his broken glasses to his face, and Lucy stared around. They had emerged into a dingy alleyway devoted to the Dark Arts. The one they'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby looking wizards were watching them from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry and Lucy set off, both of them hoping against hope they'd be able to find a way out of here.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told them they were in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as neither of the twins had ever heard of such a place. They supposed they hadn't spoken clearly enough through their mouthfuls of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, they both wondered what to do.

"Not lost are you, my dears?" said a voice in their ears, making both of them jump.

An aged witch stood in front of them, holding a tray of what looked like whole human fingernails. She leered at them, showing mossy teeth. Harry and Lucy back away.

"We're fine, thanks," Harry said.

"Y-yes, we're not lost," Lucy timidly lied. "We're just–"

"HARRY! LUCY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"

Harry and Lucy's hearts leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "We got lost–"

"Yes!" said Lucy exasperatedly. "It was Floo powder–"

Hagrid seized the two of them by the scruffs of their necks and pulled them away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into the bright sunlight. Harry and Lucy saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance–Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered them right into Diagon Alley.

"Yer both a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off of Harry and Lucy so forcefully he nearly knocked them both into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno–dodgy place, Harry, Lucy–don' want no one ter see yeh both down there–"

"We realized _that,"_ said Harry, he and Lucy ducking as Hagrid made to brush them off again. "We told you, we were lost."

"What were you doing down there, anyway, Hagrid?" Lucy asked.

"_I_ was looking fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. You two not on yer own?"

"We're staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained. "We've got to go and find them…."

They all set off together down the street.

"How come neither of yeh ever wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as the twins jogged alongside him (they had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid's enormous boots). They explained all about Dobby and the Dursleys.

"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I'd've known–"

"Harry! Lucy! Over here!"

Harry and Lucy looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

"Harry, what happened to your glasses? How have you been, Lucy? Hello, Hagrid–Oh, it's _wonderful_ to see you all again–Are you both coming into Gringotts, Harry, Lucy?"

"As soon as we've found the Weasleys," said Lucy.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.

Harry, Lucy, and Hermione turned around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry, Lucy," Mr. Weasley panted. "We _hoped_ you'd only gone one grate too far…." He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic–she's coming now–"

"Where did you two come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.

"_Excellent,"_ said Fred and George together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.

Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.

"Oh, Harry, Lucy–oh, my dears–you two could have been anywhere–"

Gasping for breath, she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found them, Hagrid!") "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.

"Guess who we saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.

"Um, no," said Lucy. "He was selling–"

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction, "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something…."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go bing off more than you can chew–"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But your _Muggles!"_ said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry and Lucy were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. The twins enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but they both felt dreadful, far worse than they had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry and Lucy felt even worse when they reached their vault. They both tried to block the contents from view as they hastily shoved handfuls of coins into two leather bags.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordon. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at Fred and George's retreating backs.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bags of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harry and Lucy's pockets were clamoring to be spent, so they split the price on four large strawberry–and–peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door, where Lucy wound up purchasing several rolls of parchment enchanted to make drawings come to life. In Gamble and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordon, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and rather boring book called _Prefects Who Gained Power._

"_A study of Hogwarts prefects and their latest careers," _Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds _fascinating…."_

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out…. He wants to be Minister of Magic…" Ron told Harry, Lucy, and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

Will be signing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

Today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist! Lucy, don't you think he's simply remarkable?"

"Uh…"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies…. Don't push, there… mind the books, now…."

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute…."

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzling white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not-blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the _Daily Prophet_–_"_

"Big deal," said Ron, running his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron–and then he saw Harry and Lucy. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It _can't _be Harry and Lucy Potter?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry and Lucy's arms, and pulled them to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry and Lucy's faces burned as Lockhart shook each of their hands for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.

"Nice big smiles, Harry, Lucy," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming team. "Together, the three of us are worth the front page."

When he finally let go of their hands, Harry and Lucy could hardly feel their fingers. They both tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw both his arms over their shoulders and clamped each of them tightly to his sides.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for silence. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry and Lucy here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography–which I will be happy to present each of them now, free of charge–" The crowd applauded again. "They had _no idea,"_ Lockhart continued, giving Harry and Lucy each a little shake that made Harry's glasses slip to the end of his nose and Lucy to stumble around a bit, "that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me._ They and their schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry and Lucy found themselves being presented with two sets of the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, they both managed to make their way out of the limelight together to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping his stack of books into the cauldron. Ginny turned bright red and tried to give them back. "No, really, take them."

"We don't want them," said Lucy, searching for a place where she could discard her own set. "We'll buy our own–"

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potters?" said a voice the twins had no trouble recognizing. They both straightened and found themselves face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer. A barely noticeable pink tinge spread across Lucy's cheeks.

"_Famous_ Harry and Lucy Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page."

"Leave them alone, neither of them wanted all that!" said Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry and Lucy. She was glaring at Malfoy.

"Famous Harry Potter also has a girlfriend, it seems," drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry and Lucy here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Anger surged through Lucy. Not only from how rudely Malfoy was treating Ron and Ginny, but also from his comments about her in Borgin and Burkes. She wasn't some weak little girl that he seemed to think she was, and she was about to prove it, right now. In a flash, Lucy dropped her stack of books, raised her hand, and slapped Malfoy hard across the face. The others stared.

"Actually, they won't," she snipped, surprising even herself with how cold she sounded. "They'll be receiving the books Lockhart gave me and Harry–books that neither of us want, I might add–as thank you presents for letting us both stay with them for the past few weeks."

Malfoy was stunned. He hadn't anticipated on Lucy barging in. He stared at her for a few long moments, moments that Lucy could have sworn she saw his cheeks turn a light shade red, but then his face turned back into its usual sneer as he turned to Ron.

"What, you need charity, now, Weasley? How pitiful…."

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry, Lucy, and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well–Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of_ A Beginner's Guide To Transfiguration._

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower–"

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please–please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all–

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up–"

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an _Encyclopedia of Toadstools._ He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl–take your book–it's the best your father can give you–" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept through the crowd to the door. Draco didn't follow his father right away. He paused to give everyone a dirty look. When his eyes met Lucy's, though, his glare faded for a moment. The two stared at one another. Again, for a fleeting instant, Lucy could have sworn she saw his cheeks flush pink. But before she could confirm this, his glare returned, and he stalked out of the shop after his father without another word.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that–no Malfoy's worth listenin ter–bad blood, that's what it is–come on now–let's get outta here."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.

"A _fine_ example to set for your children… _brawling_ in public… _what_ Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought–"

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the _Daily Prophet_ if he'd be able to work the fight into his report–said it was all publicity–"

But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry and Lucy, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side. Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry and Lucy held onto their shopping bags and each other's hands tightly before taking helpings of Floo powder. It definitely wasn't their favorite way to travel.


	5. The Whomping Willow

**I am so sorry that I took so long with this update! I would have had this chapter out last week, but there has been WiFi problems at my house, and it's only just been fixed. Anyways, please add to favorites and review!  
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**Chapter Five:****The Whomping Willow**

The end of the summer vacation came to quickly for Harry and Lucy's liking. They were looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but their month at the Burrow had been the happiest of their lives. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when they thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome they could both expect next time they turned up on Privet Drive.

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry and Lucy's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding and freshly baked chocolate cake with creamy chocolate ice cream inside. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.

It took a long while to get started the next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.

Harry and Lucy couldn't see how nine people, seven large trunks, two owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. They had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.

"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to the twins as he opened the trunk and showed them how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the backseat, where Harry, Lucy, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortingly side by side, and said, "Muggles _do_ know more than we give them credit for; don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry and Lucy turning back for a last look at the house. They barely had time to wonder when they'd see it again when they were back–George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife.

"Molly, dear–"

"_No,_ Arthur–"

"No one would see–this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed–that'd get us up in the air–then we fly about the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser–"

"I said _no,_ Arthur, not in broad daylight–"

They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.

Harry and Lucy had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What they had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed them vanishing.

"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier.

Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed.

"I'll take Ginny and you three come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harry, Lucy, and Ron, grabbing Ginny's hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

"Let's all go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harry and Lucy.

The twins made sure that Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of Harry's trunk and wheeled their trolleys around to face the barrier. They both felt perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. They all bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and–

CRASH.

All three trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Lucy nearly rolled her trolley on top of him as Hedwig's cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes name d'you think you're doing?"

"S-sorry," Lucy wheezed out as she straightened her cart.

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of mumbling about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed to Ron.

"I dunno–"

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them. Lucy paid no mind them and casually leaned her hand against the barrier. It was completely solid.

"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself–"

Harry and Lucy looked up at the giant clock with sickening feelings in the pits of their stomachs. Ten seconds… nine seconds…

Harry wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.

Three seconds… two seconds… one second…

"It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have either of you got any Muggle money?"

Lucy gave a hollow laugh. "The Dursleys? Give _us_ pocket money? You're joking, right?"

Ron pressed his ear to the cold barrier.

"Can't hear a thing," he said tensely. "What're we going to do? I can't know how long it'll take Mum and Dad to get back to us."

They looked around. People were still watching them, mainly because of Hedwig's continuing screeches.

"I think we'd better go and wait by the car," said Harry.

"Yeah," Lucy agreed. "Hedwig's drawing to much atten–"

"Harry! Lucy!" said Ron, his eyes gleaming. "The car!"

"Huh?"

"What about it?"

"We can fly the car to Hogwarts!"

"What?"

"But we thought–"

"We're stuck, right? And we've got to get to school, haven't we? And even underage witches and wizards are allowed to use magic if it's a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Thingy–"

"But your mum and dad…" said Harry, while Lucy repeatedly started to throw her shoulder against the barrier over and over again in the vain hope that it would somehow give way. "How will they get home?"

"They don't need the car!" said Ron impatiently. "They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! They only bother with Floo powder and the car because we're all underage and we're not allowed to Apparate yet…."

"Don't you think we should wait for them, though?" said Lucy, stopping her fruitless pounding on the barrier to face them. "I mean, they probably noticed we never boarded the train, so, if we just run off like that, won't they get worried?"

"I'll convince Percy when we get to school to let me borrow Hermes so I can explain what happened."

"I don't know, Ron…"

"Don't worry about that, now," he said. "Look, if we don't hurry, we'll lose any chance we have at catching up to the Hogwarts Express!"

Harry and Lucy's feelings of panic suddenly turned to excitement.

"Can you fly it?"

"No problem," said Ron, wheeling his trolley around to face the exit. "C'mon, let's go."

And they marched off through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back onto the side road where the old Ford Anglia was parked.

Ron unlocked the cavernous trunk with a serious of taps from his wand. They heaved their luggage back in and put Hedwig in the backseat. Lucy joined her since Harry got up front with Ron.

"Check that no one's watching," said Ron, starting the ignition with another tap of his wand. Harry and Lucy stuck their heads out of the windows. Traffic was rumbling along the main road ahead, but their street was empty.

"Okay," they both said.

Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. The car around them vanished–and so did they. Harry and Lucy could feel the seats vibrating beneath them, hear the engine, feel their own hands and–in Harry's case–his glasses on his nose, but for all any of them could see, they had become pairs of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.

"Let's go," said Ron's voice from Harry's left.

And the ground and the dirty buildings on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose; in seconds, the whole of London lay, smoky and glittering, below them.

Then there was a popping noise and the car, Harry, Lucy, and Ron reappeared.

"What's going on?" Lucy cried.

"Uh oh," said Ron, jabbing at the Invisibility Booster. "It's faulty–"

All three of them pummeled it. The car vanished. Then it flickered back again.

"Hold on!" Ron yelled, and he slammed his foot on the accelerator; they shot straight into the low, woolly clouds and everything turned dull and foggy.

"Now what?" said Harry, blinking in the solid mass of cloud pressing in on them from all sides.

"We need to see the train to know what direction to go in," said Ron.

"Then dip down–quickly!" said Lucy.

They dropped back beneath the clouds and twisted around in their seats, squinting at the ground.

"I can see it!" Harry yelled. "Right ahead–there!"

The Hogwarts Express was streaking along below them like a scarlet snake.

"Due north," said Ron, checking the compass on the dashboard. "Okay, we'll just have to check on it every half hour or so–hold on–"

And they shot up through the clouds. A minute later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight.

It was a different world. The wheels of the car skimmed the sea of fluffy cloud, the sky a bright, endless blue under the blinding white sun.

"All we've got to worry about now are airplanes," said Ron.

They all looked at one another and started to laugh; for a long time, none of them could stop.

It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream. This, thought Harry and Lucy, was surely the only way to travel–past swirls and turrets of heavy cloud, in a car full of hot, bright sunlight, with a fat pack of toffees in the glove compartment, and the prospect of seeing Fred and George's jealous faces when they landed smoothly and spectacularly on the sweeping lawn in front of Hogwarts castle.

"This is amazing!" Lucy said as she pressed both her hands against the window. Ron grinned.

"And you were worried for nothing," he said jauntily.

They made regular checks on the train as they flew farther and farther north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a different view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat green fields that gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, a great city alive with cars like multicolored ants, and villages with tiny toy churches.

Several uneventful hours later, however, Harry and Lucy had to admit that some of the fun was wearing off. The toffees had made them extremely thirsty and they had nothing to drink. Harry, Lucy, and Ron had pulled off their sweaters, but their T-shirts were sticking to the backs of their seats and, for Harry, his glasses kept sliding down to the end of his sweaty nose. The twins had stopped noticing the fabulous cloud shapes now and were thinking longingly of the train miles below, where they could buy ice-cold pumpkin juice from a trolley pushed by a plump witch. _Why_ hadn't they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?

"Can't be much further, can it?" croaked Ron, hours later still, as the sun started to sink into their floor of could, staining it a deep pink. "Ready for another check on the train?"

It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath a canopy of clouds.

Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine began to whine.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron exchanged nervous glances.

"It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before…."

And they all pretended not to notice the whining growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. Stars were blossoming in the blackness. Lucy pulled her sweater back on, trying to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving feebly, as though in protest.

"Not far," said Ron, more to the car than to Harry or Lucy, "not far now," and he patted the dashboard nervously.

When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.

"_There it is!"_ Lucy shouted, making Harry, Ron, and Hedwig jump. "Straight ahead!"

Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle.

But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed.

"Come on," said Ron cajolingly, giving the steering wheel a little shake, "nearly there, come on–"

The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were rising from under the hood. Harry and Lucy found themselves gripping the edges of their seats very hard as they flew toward the lake.

The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of her window, Lucy saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again.

"Come _on,"_ Ron muttered.

They were over the lake–the castle was right ahead–Ron put his foot down.

There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely.

"Uh-oh," said Ron, into the silence.

The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the solid castle wall.

"_Noooooo!"_ Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.

Ron let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket–

"STOP! STOP THE CAR!" Lucy screamed as Ron began whacking the dashboard and the windshield, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them–

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late–

CRUNCH.

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from the crumbled hood; Hedwig was shrieking in terror; a golf-ball-sized lump was throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield; Lucy gingerly smeared away the blood from a large gash over her left eye from when the window next to her had exploded; Ron let out a low, despairing groan.

"Are you guys okay?" Harry said urgently.

"I've got a bit of a cut over my eye, but I'll be fine. What about you, Ron?"

"My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand–"

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, and Lucy sprawling onto the other side of the backseat and into Hedwig's cage, who screeched in terror, just as in equally heavy blow hit the roof.

"What's happen–"

Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harry and Lucy looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they had just hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.

"Aaargh!" said Ron as another twisted limb punched a large dent into his door; the windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving–

"Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch, and Lucy was also nearly sent flying out the semi-destroyed backseat window.

"We're done for!" Ron moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating–the engine had restarted.

"_Reverse!"_ Harry yelled, and the car shot backward; the tree was still trying to hit them; they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach.

"That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car–"

The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Harry and Lucy both felt their seats tip sideways: Next thing they knew they were both sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told them that the car was ejecting their luggage from the trunk; Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open; she rose out of it with an angry screech and sped off toward the castle without a backward loo. Then, dented, scratched, and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.

"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!"

But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust.

"Can either of you _believe_ our luck?" said Ron miserably, bending down to pick up Scabbers. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get the one that hits back."

He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly.

"Come on," said Harry wearily, "we'd better get up to the school…."

It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors.

"I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. "Hey–Harry, Lucy–come and look–it's the Sorting!"

Harry and Lucy hurried over and, together, they and Ron peered in at the Great Hall.

Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.

Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry and Lucy saw a very long line of scared first years filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.

Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts Houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). The twins well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in their ears. For a few horrible seconds, they each had feared that the hat was going to put them both in Slytherin, the House that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other, and that Malfoy was in, much to Lucy's embarrassment–but they had both ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys. Last term, Harry, Lucy, and Ron, had helped Gryffindor win the House Championship, beating Slytherin for the first time in seven years.

A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. The twin's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long, silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry and Lucy saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet.

"Hang on…" Harry muttered to Ron and Lucy. "There's one empty chair at the staff table…. Where's Snape?"

Professor Severus Snape was Harry and Lucy's least favorite teacher. Harry and Lucy also happened to be Snape's least favorite students. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions.

"Maybe he's ill," said Lucy.

"Maybe he's _left,"_ said Harry hopefully, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job _again!"_

"Or maybe he's been _sacked!"_ said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him–"

"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you three didn't arrive on the school train."

Harry and Lucy spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry and Lucy that the three of them were in very deep trouble.

He gave Harry and Ron a piercing look that made them both shudder, but when he came to Lucy, his expression, for a split second, changed. Instead of looking cold and positively evil, Lucy saw his eyes fill with sadness. It reminded her of last year, of when she, Harry, and Ron took their first Potions lesson. He had looked at her in the exact same way. She opened her mouth to ask if he was all right, but she blinked, and his eyes filled were filled with malice once more.

"Follow me," said Snape.

Pushing Snape's strange behavior around her out of her mind, Lucy followed after him, Harry, and Ron up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.

"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.

They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large, glass jars, in which floated all manners of revolting things Harry and Lucy didn't really want to know the name of at that moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Potter Twins and their faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a _bang,_ did we?"

"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it–"

"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?"

Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry and Lucy the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, they understood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the _Evening Prophet._

"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: _FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES._ He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower… at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing… Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police… Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe _your_ father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. "Dear, dear… his own son…"

Harry and Lucy both felt as though they'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. In anyone found out Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car… neither of them had thought about that…

"I noticed, in my search of the grounds, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on.

"That tree did more damage to _us_ than we–" Ron blurted out.

"_Silence!"_ Snape snapped again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel all three of you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who _do_ have that happy power. You will wait here."

Harry, Lucy, and Ron all stared at one another, white-faced. Lucy didn't feel hungry anymore. She now felt extremely sick. She tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict. Lucy bitterly wished she had been more insistent back at King's Cross that they ought to have waited for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough, it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him. Harry and Lucy had seen Professor McGonagall angry before on several occasions, but either they had both forgotten just how thin her mouth could go, or they had never seen her this angry before. She raised her wand the moment she entered; Harry, Lucy and Ron all flinched, but she merely pointed it at the empty fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted.

"Sit," she said, and they all backed into chairs by the fire.

"Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously.

Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through.

"–so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train."

"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe _you two_ have an owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry and Lucy.

Harry and Lucy exchanged nervous looks. Now that she said it, that seemed the obvious thing to have done.

"We–we didn't think–" they spluttered.

"That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious."

There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.

Harry and Lucy's whole bodies went numb. Dumbledore was looking unusually grave. He stared down his very crooked nose at them, and Harry and Lucy suddenly found themselves wishing that they were still being beaten up by the Whomping Willow.

There was a long silence. The Dumbledore said, "Please explain why you did this."

It would have been better if he had shouted. Harry and Lucy hated the disappointment in his voice. For some reason, neither of them was able to look Dumbledore in the eyes, and they both spoke instead to their knees. They told Dumbledore everything except that Mr. Weasley owned the bewitched car, making it sound as though they happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. They knew Dumbledore would see through this at once, but Dumbledore asked no questions about the car. When Harry and Lucy had finished, he merely continued to peer at them through his spectacles.

"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked Professor McGonagall.

"Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.

Harry and Lucy looked quickly at Dumbledore.

"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But I must impress upon all three of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both of your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."

Snape looked as though Christmas had been cancelled. He cleared his throat and said, "Professor Dumbledore, these three have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree–surely acts of this nature–"

"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on their punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her hands and are therefore her responsibility." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample–"

Snape shot a look of pure venom at Harry, Lucy, and Ron as he allowed himself to be swept out of his office, leaving them along with Professor McGonagall, who was still eyeing them like a wrathful eagle.

"You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Miss Potter, you're bleeding."

"It-it's fine, Professor," said Lucy hastily as she wiped the cut over her eye with the end of her sleeve.

"Um, Professor?" said Ron bravely. "I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted–"

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," said Ron.

"And speaking of Gryffindor–" Professor McGonagall said sharply, buy Harry cut in: "Professor, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so–so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it, should it?" he finished, watching her anxiously.

Professor McGonagall gave him a piercing look, but Harry and Lucy were sure she had almost smiled. Her mouth looked less thin, anyways.

"I will not take any points from Gryffindor," she said, and twin's hearts lightened considerably. "But all three of you will get a detention."

It was better than Harry and Lucy had expected. As for Dumbledore writing to the Dursleys, that was nothing. Harry and Lucy knew perfectly well they'd just be disappointed that the Whomping Willow hadn't squashed them flat.

Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape's desk. A large plate of sandwiches, three silver goblets, and a jar of iced pumpkin juice appeared with a pop.

"You will eat in here, and then go straight up to your dormitory," she said. "I must also return to the feast."

When the door closed behind her, Lucy let out a deep, needed sigh of relief.

"I thought for sure they would expel us," she said, grabbing a sandwich.

"So did I," said Harry, taking one, too.

"Can you believe our luck, though?" said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. "Fred and George must've flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw _them."_ He swallowed and took another huge bite. "Why couldn't we get through the barrier, though?"

"Who can say?" Lucy said with a shrug.

"We'll have to watch our step from now on, though," Harry said, taking a grateful swig of pumpkin juice. "Wish we could've gone up to the feast…."

"She didn't want us showing off," said Ron sagely. "Doesn't want people to think it's clever, arriving by flying car."

When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept refilling itself), they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; it seemed that the feast was over. They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached

"Er–" said Harry.

"Uh–" said Lucy.

They didn't know the new year's password, nor having met a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermione dashing toward them.

"_There_ you all are! Where have you _been?_ The most _ridiculous_ rumors–someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying _car_–_"_

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"You're not telling me you _did_ fly here?" said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall.

"If it's worth anything, I was against it," said Lucy.

"But you still shouldn't have–"

"Skip the lecture" said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's 'wattlebird,'" said Hermione irritably, "but that's not the point–"

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry, Lucy, and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordon. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years–"

"Good for you," said a fifth year that neither Harry nor Lucy had ever spoken to; someone was patting both of their backs as though they'd just won a marathon; Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?" Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry and Lucy could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once.

"Got to get upstairs–bit tired. 'Night, Lucy, Hermione," he said, and he and Harry started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the boy's dormitories.

"'Night, Lucy, Hermione," Harry called back to Lucy and Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's.

They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign over it saying SECOND YEARS. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the end of their beds.

Ron grinned guiltily at Harry.

"I know I shouldn't've enjoyed that or anything, but–"

The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second-year Gryffindor boys. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom.

"_Unbelievable!"_ beamed Seamus.

"Cool," said Dean.

"Amazing," said Neville, awestruck.

Harry couldn't help it. He grinned, too.

Lucy on the other hand, was not at all happy about all the attention.

The moment Harry and Ron had escaped the room, the crowd had rounded on Lucy, who all dragged her away from Hermione, and towards an empty armchair before the magnificent fireplace. Lucy's head reeled as she was bombarded by questions and compliments.

"That was _amazing!"_

"What happened to the car?"

"Did you _really _crash into the Whomping Willow?"

"Don't know_ what_ you three were _thinking_–_"_

"Wish I could've seen it!"

"Pl-please!" Lucy said in a timid voice from how light-headed she was getting from all the attention. "I'm really tired, I think I ought to go to bed–"

"Must've been _awesome!"_

"What happened to your eye?"

"How did you three track the train?"

"–could've been _expelled, _or even _killed!"_

"Tell us everything!"

"I-in the morning!" she spluttered in a slightly louder voice. "R-right now, I want to go upstairs–"

It was no use. Her voice was lost in the sea of shouting and cheering from everyone around her. Lucy just sat there dazed as they kept throwing out more praises and questions, mentally cursing at Harry and Ron for abandoning her to the wolves.

"She's tired!" snapped a voice at the back of the crowd. Surprised, Lucy looked up to see the entire group of second-year girls, Hermione, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil, pushing their way through the swarming bodies to reach her.

"It's late!" Parvati said loudly as Hermione and Lavender both grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. "She wants to sleep!"

"Ask her about the car tomorrow," said Hermione strictly. "She's had a long day." And without another word, they proceeded to sprint through the mob to reach the door that led to the spiral staircase that went up to the girl's dormitories, dragging Lucy behind them. They didn't stop running until the four of them were up in their old dormitory that was now designated to them as second-year students, and had slammed the door shut.

"Th-thank you!" Lucy panted, doubled over with her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. "You guys are life savers!"

"No problem," said Parvati. "Anything for our friend."

"Thank Hermione," said Lavender. "She's the one who came up with the idea to go in all together to save you."

Lucy promptly hugged her.

"You really are the brightest witch in our year," she said.

Hermione blushed.

"It was nothing, really–"

"No, seriously Hermione, thank you. Thank you, all," Lucy added to Lavender and Parvati. "I thought they'd never let me leave."

"No problem."

"Anytime."

"It's late. We should all get to bed. Classes start tomorrow, after all." Lucy, Lavender, and Parvati nodded to Hermione, and within ten minutes, they were all in bed. As Lucy fell asleep, she couldn't help but smile.


	6. Gilderoy Lockhart

**After the long delay with the last chapter, I wanted to make sure I got this chapter out as soon as possible. Also, I would like to point out something that the majority of you, my reviewers, have pointed out about Lucy: Why do I have her just stick around as a side character while writing this word-for-word from the book? Well, I CLEARLY stated at the beginning of book one that the only reason why writing the first few books at all instead of skipping ahead to the middle of book three, which is actually where Lucy's adventures REALLY start, is because I like to start at the beginning. If any of you don't like this, feel free to find another fanfiction to read.**

* * *

**Chapter Six: ****Gilderoy Lockhart**

The next day, however, Harry and Lucy barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long House tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray). Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione and Lucy. Hermione had her copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said, "Morning," which told Harry and Ron that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived. Lucy, who had been planning on giving Harry and Ron the cold shoulder after how they had left her last night, had to abandon her plan when Neville Longbottom ran over to them. He, unlike Hermione, greeted them cheerfully. Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry and Lucy had ever met.

"Mail's due any minute–I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

The twins had only just started on their bowls of porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"_Errol!"_ said Ron, pulling the bedraggled out by the feet. Errol slumped unconscious onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh, no–" Ron gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"Just give him a bit of toast and he should be okay," Lucy suggested, ripping a bit of crust off of her toast and pushing it toward the unconscious bird.

"It's not that–it's _that."_

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry and Lucy, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though the expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's–she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" –he gulped– "it was horrible."

Lucy looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" she said.

But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes–"

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry and Lucy knew why. They thought for a moment it _had_ exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"–STEALING THE CAR. I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE–"

Mrs. Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stonewalls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"–LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY AND LUCY COULD HAVE ALL DIED–"

The twins had been wondering when their names were going to crop up. They both tried very hard to look as though they couldn't hear the voice that was making their eardrums throb.

"–ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED–YOU FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry, Lucy, and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed _Voyages with Vampires_ and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you–"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Harry and Lucy both pushed their bowls of porridge away. Their insides were burning with guilt. Mr. Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done for them over the summer…

But they had no time to dwell on this. Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Harry and Lucy took theirs and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think Harry and Ron had been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly with them again.

As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages and with another twinge of guilt, the twins spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello, there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels."

"Greenhouse three, today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before–greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Lucy caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. She and Harry were about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry! Lucy! I've been wanting a word–you don't mind if they're a couple minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"Harry, Lucy," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Harry, Lucy, Harry Lucy."

Completely nonplussed, Harry and Lucy said nothing.

"When I heard–well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

Harry and Lucy exchanged bewildered looks. They had no idea what he was talking about. They were about to say so when Lockhart went on. "Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd both done it. Stood out a mile, Harry, Lucy, Harry, Lucy, _Harry, Lucy."_

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn't talking.

"Gave you two a taste for publicity, didn't I?" said Lockhart. "Gave you both the bug. You both got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

"Oh, no, Professor, see–"

"N-no, Professor! That's not–"

"Harry, Lucy," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping each of their shoulders. _"I understand._ Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste–and I blame myself for giving you two that, because it was bound to go to your heads–but see here, you can't start _flying cars_ to try and get yourselves noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're both older. Yes, yes, I know what you're both thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you two are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you two, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scars on Harry and Lucy's foreheads. "I know, I know–it's not quite as good as winning _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have–but it's a _start,_ Harry, Lucy, it's a _start."_

He gave the twins a hearty wink and strode off. Harry and Lucy both stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering they were supposed to be in the greenhouse, they opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harry and Lucy had both taken their places between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harry and Lucy, who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are _completely_ covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right–earmuffs _on."_

Lucy snapped the earmuffs over her ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Lucy let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in the dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they _will_ knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Five to a tray–there is a large supply of pots here–compost in the sacks over there–and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy the twins knew by sight but had never spoken to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry and Lucy's hands. "Know who you two are, of course, the famous Potter twins…. And you're Hermione Granger–always top in everything" (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "–and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and–zap–just _fantastic._

"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…."

After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry and Lucy spent ten whole minutes working together to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of class, Harry and Lucy, like everyone else, were sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

Lucy was doing only a tad better. She had managed to corner her beetle with two of her textbooks and flicked her wand. Now, she had a button with the legs of a beetle scurrying between her two textbooks, and was having difficulty finishing the spell.

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to Transfigure his beetle, it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

Harry and Lucy were both relieved to hear the lunch bell. Their brains felt like wrung sponges. Everyone filed out of the classroom except for them and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

"Stupid–useless–thing–"

"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.

"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. _"'It's your own fault your wand got snapped_–_"_

They went down to lunch where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got after lunch?" said Lucy, hastily changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"_Why,"_ demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in _Voyages with Vampires_ again. Harry, Lucy, and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harry and Lucy became aware that they were being closely watched. Looking up, they saw the very small, mousy-haired boy they'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry and Lucy as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry and Lucy looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry, Lucy? I'm–I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think–would it be all right if–can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"Sure, but why?" said Lucy.

"So I can prove I've met both of you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you guys. Everyone's told me. About how you two survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you both and how he disappeared and how both of you've still got lightning scars on your foreheads" (his eyes raked Harry and Lucy's hairlines) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll _move!" _Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's _amazing_ here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him and my little brother. And it'd be really good if I had one of the both of you" –he looked imploringly at Harry and Lucy– "maybe one of your friends could take it and I could stand next to you both? And then, could you both maybe sign it?"

"_Signed photos? _You're giving out _signed photos, _Potters?"

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Lucy flushed pink at the sight of Malfoy, not that anyone noticed.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "The Potter Twins are giving out signed photos!"

"No, we're not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was almost as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"_Jealous?"_ said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: Half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

"You… you think we _like_ being special?" said Lucy suddenly. "You may see these scars as our proof of being famous, but do you know what Harry and I see them as? The proof as to why we don't have parents?"

Malfoy stared at her for a moment. Again, just like back in Flourish and Blotts, Lucy thought she saw his cheeks flood with color for a moment, but then he scowled and said,

"What, do you both still cry over them?"

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your mummy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. _"'If you put another toe out of line'_–_"_

A knot of Slytherin fifth years nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potters," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house–"

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut _Voyages with Vampires_ with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harry and Lucy both started to speak but were cut short as Lockhart flung each of his arms over their shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry, Lucy!"

Pinned to Lockhart's sides and burning with humiliation, Harry and Lucy saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd. Seeing him laughing at this embarrassing moment made Lucy flush even harder.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A portrait of all three of us, can't do better than that, and we'll _all_ sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of the afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry and Lucy, who were both wishing that one of them knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his sides.

"A word to the wise, Harry, Lucy," said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for both of you back there with young Creevey–if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourselves up so much…."

Deaf to Harry and Lucy's stammers, Lockhart swept them down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your careers isn't sensible–looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, Lucy, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll both need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but" –he gave a little chortle– "I don't think either of you are quite there yet."

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harry and Lucy go at last. Harry and Lucy both yanked their robes straight and headed for seats at the very back of the class, where they both busied themselves with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of them, so that they could avoid looking at the real thing.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry and Lucy.

"You could've fried eggs on your faces," said Ron. "You better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Potter Twins fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry and Lucy together. The last thing either of them needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Potter Twins fan club."

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of _Travels with Troll, _and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award–but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books–well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about–just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in–"

When he handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes–start–_now!"_

Lucy looked down at her paper and read:

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over three sides of paper right down to:

_54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what would his ideal gift be?_

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tug–hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in _Year with the Yeti._ And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully–I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples–though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"…but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions–good girl! In fact" –he flipped her paper over– "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points to Gryffindor! And so–to business–"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now–be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of themselves, Harry and Lucy leaned around their piles of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. _"Freshly caught Cornish pixies."_

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not–they're not very–_dangerous,_ are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and almost eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the wastebasket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed windows; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on now–round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, _"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"_

It had absolutely no effect; one of pixies seized his wand and threw it out the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Can you _believe_ him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.

"_Hands on?"_ said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing?"

"Rubbish," said Hermione.

"Hermione, what kind of teacher leaves students alone to deal with all this?" said Lucy, who was busy fighting with a pixie over her textbook.

"The kind that wants his students to learn the way he learned: the hard way. You've read his books–look at all those amazing things he's done–"

"He _says _he's done," Ron muttered.


	7. Mudbloods and Murmurs

**Okay, I'm starting to get REALLY annoyed at all the reviews I've been getting lately about the deal with having mentioned in the Sorcerer's Stone of Lucy being smarter than Harry, but not having shown it yet. Well, I suppose I wasn't clear on what I meant there:  
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**When I said that Lucy was smarter than Harry, I meant that she was smarter than him ACADEMICS wise, not that she has more common sense about not doing things that get her and Harry into trouble. And when it came to having her wait on the platform for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley instead of going with Harry and Ron in the car, believe me, I really did consider doing that. However, i HAD to have her get in the car because of what happens in detention, or did all of you, my reviewers, forget what happens in the book and in the movie during Harry's detention with Lockhart? No matter, you'll be refreshed by the end of this chapter  
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**Another thing that I'm getting frustrated with from complaints in reviews is not only my writing this word-for-word from the books, but also that I'm starting Lucy's story earlier than when it actually starts during the middle of Prisoner of Azakaban. Well, allow me to first explain yet AGAIN why I'm starting Lucy's story so early:  
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**Now, I don't know about all of you, but I really dislike it when authors don't write the beginning stories. I do not care if it causes the waiting period for the real story to be longer, but it's really just a pet peeve, one that I would not allow myself to do in my own story. Also, as you will all see in later books, is that I'm already setting up really BIG things for the future, although the details for them may seem rather minor at this time. Now, would I be able to do that if I had started later on in the series? No, I couldn't.  
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**As for why I'm writing this word-for-word from the books... I guess I just wanted to be different. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's seen other authors steal real paragraphs from the books in their stories, but I've never seen an author write their whole story as word-for-word, like I'm doing with my story. I'm sorry if it may seem weird, but I just thought it would be fun and neat to do. Sorry if you all dislike this!  
**

**Anyways, please read and review!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: ****Mudbloods and Murmurs**

Harry and Lucy spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever either of them saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to memorize Harry and Lucy's schedules, not that Lucy was complaining. She liked Colin, unlike Harry. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry, Lucy?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin, how are you?" back from Lucy, however exasperated Harry felt whenever he heard it.

Hedwig was still angry with Harry and Lucy about the disastrous car journey and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, the twins were quite glad to reach the weekend. They, Ron, and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Lucy, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than she would have liked by fourth year Alicia Spinnet, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whaddyouwant?" said Lucy in a sleepy voice.

"Wood's scheduled Quidditch practice this morning," said Alicia, sounding just as tired as she did. "Come on."

Lucy squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that she was awake, she couldn't understand how she could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Alicia," Lucy croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"I know," said Alicia, fighting back a yawn. "It's part of Wood's new training program. Come on, grab your broom, before Wood comes and gets you himself."

Yawning and shivering slightly, Lucy climbed out of bed and tried to find her Quidditch robes.

"Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes," said Alicia.

When she'd found her scarlet team robes and pulled on her cloak for warmth, Lucy scribbled a note to Hermione explaining where she'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, her Nimbus Two Thousand over her shoulder. Harry was waiting for her beside the fireplace.

"Morning, Luce," he said with a yawn.

"Morning, Harry," she said back tiredly.

They had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind them and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I thought I heard your voices, Harry, Lucy! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show both of you–"

Harry and Lucy looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under their noses.

A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on two arms that Harry and Lucy recognized as their own. They were both pleased to see that their photographic selves were putting up good fights and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry and Lucy watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you guys sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

"Sure," Lucy said brightly. "Let me just run upstairs and get a quill–"

"Not now, Lucy!" Harry hissed, grabbing her arm to stop her from going back upstairs. "Sorry, Colin," he said, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "But Lucy and I are in a hurry–Quidditch practice–"

He half dragged Lucy through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

Colin scrambled through the hole after them.

"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly. Lucy jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow.

"No it won't! You're welcome to tag along if you'd like to, Colin," she said. Colin's face shined with excitement.

"Wow! Thanks! You two were the youngest House players in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry, Lucy? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside them. "You guys must me brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Are those your brooms? Are they the best ones out there?"

Harry didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow. A shadow that his twin sister acknowledged and was earnestly answering all of its questions.

"I don't really understand Quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," said Lucy, now explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley, the other set of twins on the Gryffindor team, are our Beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a couple steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry and Lucy.

"Well, the Quaffle–that's the big red one–is the one that scores goals. Three Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goalposts at the end of the field–they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball–"

"–is the Golden Snitch," said Lucy, "and it's very small, very fast, and difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a game of Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns their team an extra hundred and fifty points."

"And _you're _the Gryffindor Seeker's, aren't you?" said Colin in awe.

"Yes," said Lucy, as they left the castle and started across the dew-drenched grass. "And there's the Keeper, too. He guards the goalposts. Oliver Wood is our Keeper, and he's also the Captain of the Gryffindor team."

"That's it, really," said Harry quickly.

But Colin didn't stop questioning Harry and Lucy all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off Lucy when they reached the changing rooms; Colin called after them in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry, Lucy!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team was already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

There you are, Harry, Lucy, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…."

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different-colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry and Lucy sank into stupors as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry and Lucy from their wistful fantasies about what they could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately–owing to circumstances beyond our control–"

Harry and Lucy shifted guiltily in their seats. They had both been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been two players short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before…. Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry and Lucy walked onto the field, they saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you two finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, he and Lucy looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall.

"You haven't?" said Hermione, surprised. "What _have_ you all been doing all this time, then?"

"Wood's been teaching all of us some new moves," Lucy explained.

They mounted their broomsticks and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped at Harry and Lucy's faces, waking them up far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. They soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing each other and Fred and George.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry and Lucy looked down into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry, Lucy! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" said Fred.

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from both Colin and Lucy, who just barely missed whacking him upside the head.

"His name is Colin Creevey," she explained.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor, same as the rest of us," said Lucy quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Lucy, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. _'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"_

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Who?"

And from behind the seven large figures before them came an eighth smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy. Lucy flushed pink, not that any of the Gryffindors noticed from their surprise, or the Slytherins from feeling so smug.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All eight of them held out their broomsticks. Eight highly polished, brand new handles and eight sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words, _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_ gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" –he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives– "sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry and Lucy. "Why aren't you guys playing? And what' s _he_ doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father bought our team."

Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the eight superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," said Hermione sharply. _"They _got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry and Lucy knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him Alicia shrieked, _"How dare you!", _and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth and onto his lap.

The Slytherin tam were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"Let's take him to Hagrid's, his place is closet," said Lucy to Harry and Hermione, who both nodded bravely, and the trio pulled Ron up by the arms.

"What happened, Harry, Lucy? What happened? Is he ill? But you guys can cure him, can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry, Lucy?"

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry angrily. Due to the circumstances, Lucy didn't snap at him for being rude to Colin. They and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds toward the edge of the forest.

"Nearly there, Ron," said Hermione as the gamekeeper's cabin came into view. "You'll be all right in a minute–almost there–"

They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Behind here," Harry and Lucy hissed, dragging Ron behind a nearby bush. Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one–I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!" And he strode away toward the castle.

Harry and Lucy waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Ron out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door. They knocked urgently.

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me–come in, come in–thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again–"

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione supported Ron over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by Ron's slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as he and Lucy lowered Ron into a chair.

"Better out than in," he said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of him. "Get'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand–"

Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts teacher, and Harry and Lucy looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job–"

"He was the _on'y_ man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed into his basin. "An' I mean the _on'y_ one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren' too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' to think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at Ron. "Who was he tryin' ter curse?"

"M-Malfoy," Lucy squeaked. "He called Hermione something–Harry and I don't know what it means, but it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild."

"It _was _bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid–"

Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!" He growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it meant, either. I could tell it was really rude, of course–"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born–you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards–like Malfoy's family–who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into the basin and continued. "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom–he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up"

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

He retched and ducked out of sight again.

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

Harry would have pointed out that trouble didn't come much worse than having slugs pouring out of your mouth, but he couldn't; Hagrid's treacle toffee had cemented his jaws together. Lucy, on the other hand, had not taken any of the toffees, and had no trouble with speaking her mind.

"That… that jerk!" she snapped. "I can't believe he would call you something that horrible, Hermione!"

"Don't worry about it, Lucy," said Hermione. "It's just a word. He didn't go and curse me or anything like that."

"Still, he shouldn't be allowed to say things like that…." He trailed off. Hermione gazed at her curiously, not understanding why she was taking Malfoy's comment to heart more than she herself was.

"Harry, Lucy," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh both. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart, and Lucy turned as red as her Quidditch robes.

"We have _not_ been giving out signed photos," Harry said hotly. "If Lockhart's still spreading that around–"

"W-whatever he t-told you was a l-lie, Hagrid," Lucy spluttered. "It was just that this first year–"

But then they saw that Hagrid was laughing.

"I'm on'y jokin', " he said, patting the twins genially on their backs and sending them both face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh both didn' need teh. Yer both more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle toffee, Ron?" he added as Ron reappeared.

"No thanks," said Ron weakly. "Better not risk it."

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid as Harry, Lucy, and Hermione finished the last of their tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry and Lucy had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Halloween Feast… should be big enough by then."

"They're huge, Hagrid! What've you been feeding them?" said Lucy.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them–you know–a bit o' help–"

The twins noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry and Lucy had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, they had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry and Lucy had never found out why–any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. Lucy grinned.

"You know, Harry," she said coyly, "I bet _she_ wouldn't say no to a signed–"

"Oh, shut up, Lucy," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.

"Watch it!" Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious pumpkins.

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only bits of treacle toffee since dawn and Lucy had had nothing since dinner last night, they were both keen to go back to school to eat. They said good-bye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two very small slugs.

They had barely set foot in the entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are, Potters–Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking very stern. "All three of you will do your detentions this evening."

"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.

"_You_ will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley–elbow grease."

Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.

"And you, Potters, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, n–Professor, can't we go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately.

"We're sure we can be a great asset with polishing," Lucy added.

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you two particularly. If I were you two, I would be grateful for having him request both of you. Professor Snape _had _wanted one of you to test the results of the Hiccupping Remedies that the first years had been assigned for homework. Eight o'clock sharp, all three of you."

Harry, Lucy, and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a _well-you-did-break-school-rules_ sort of expression. Lucy didn't enjoy her roast beef as much as she thought. She, Harry, and Ron felt they'd got the worst deal.

"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"We'd sway anytime," said Harry hollowly. "We've had loads of practice with the Dursleys."

"Answering Lockhart's fan mail…" Lucy trailed off. "He'll be a nightmare…."

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry and Lucy were dragging their feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. They both gritted their teeth and knocked.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at them.

"Ah, here's the scalawags!" he said. "Come in, Harry, Lucy, come in–"

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.

"You can both address the envelopes," Lockhart told the twins, as though this was a huge treat. "These first one's are to Gladys Gudgeon and Emma Clancy, bless them–huge fans of mine–"

The minutes snailed by. Harry and Lucy let Lockhart's voice wash over them, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah." New and then they caught phrases like, "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry, Lucy," or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that, you two."

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching them. Lucy moved her aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethly's address. _It must be nearly time to leave,_ Lucy thought miserably, _please let it be nearly time…._

And then she heard something–Harry heard it, too–something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"_Come… come to me…. Let me rip you…. Let me tear you…. Let me kill you…."_

Lucy gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethly's street, and Harry sent a lot of envelopes tumbling to the floor.

"_What?"_ they both said loudly.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"

"That–that whispery voice!" Lucy cried. "That voice! It said–didn't you hear it, too, Professor?"

Lockhart was looking at Harry and Lucy in high astonishment.

"What _are_ you both talking about, Harry, Lucy? Perhaps you're both getting a little drowsy? Great Scott–look at the time! We've been here nearly fours hours! I'd never have believed it–the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Harry and Lucy didn't answer. They were both straining their ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling them they mustn't expect a treat like this every time they got detention. Feeling dazed, they both left.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. They said goodnight to each other and went straight up to their dormitories.

Ron wasn't back yet. Harry pulled on his pajamas, got into bed, and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and bringing a strong smell of polish into the darkened room.

My muscles have all seized up," he groaned, sinking on his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch Cup before he was satisfied. And then I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to get the slime off…. How were you and Lucy with Lockhart?"

Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he and Lucy had heard.

"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it–even someone invisible would've had to open the door."

"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it either."

Hermione was still awake when Lucy entered the dormitory, her nose buried deep in _Voyages With Vampires. _She looked up as Lucy came in.

"How was Lockhart?" she asked eagerly, shutting her book with a snap. "Did he talk about his defeat of the–"

"Forget Lockhart, Hermione!" Lucy whispered so as not to wake up the other girls. "Listen to what happened to me and Harry!"

She explained all about the mysterious voice that only she and Harry seemed to have heard. Hermione was shocked, and could only stare at her for a long while.

"A voice that Lockhart couldn't hear?" she asked. "It doesn't make sense…. Lockhart is such an amazingly talented wizard; he's accomplished so much…. How could he have not been able to hear this voice, but you and Harry could?"

Lucy merely shrugged. Lockhart not being able to hear the strange voice wasn't what was troubling her. Her head was reeling with the words that Dobby the house-elf had warned of. Great danger was lurking at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year, he had said…. Was the mysterious voices somehow related?


	8. The Deathday Party

**I give up. I give up completely with trying to politely explain to all of you reviewers who constantly hurt my feelings with your cruel words in your reviews about what's going on in my head as I write this. So, I'll just be blunt, and to all of you that are actually praising me with your reviews, please don't stop leaving kind reviews, and ignore these next words:  
**

**IF YOU HAVE NOTHING NICE TO SAY ABOUT THIS STORY, THEN DON'T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL!  
**

**Huff... Well, I certainly feel better with writing that. But seriously, though, do any of you know how much it hurts for an author to only recieve one or two nice reviews about their story while everyone else only leaves long, horrible reviews that only criticize everything that they are writing? I receive at least three or four per chapter, and frankly, it really hurts.  
**

**If you're trying to flame people, find someone else's story to flame, because I'm not taking it anymore and the reviews WILL be deleted. If all you're doing is trying to provide constructive criticism, then please, think before you write. I would not be ranting right now if you had simply thought about trying to be a bit nicer with how you word things in your reviews.  
**

**Anyways please enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: ****The Deathday Party**

October arrived, sending a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Lucy, not having had a chance to even speak to her since they had left the Burrow and still wanting to become friends with her, had offered to help her with her homework assignments while she was sick, but Percy wouldn't hear of it. He refused to allow her to have company until she was well once more, insisting he could be of more help to her with her homework and essays than anyone else could be.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flowerbeds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry and Lucy were to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon, a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to their skins and splattered with mud.

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than eight greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles.

As Harry and Lucy squelched along the deserted corridor they came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as they were. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath. "… don't fulfill their requirements… half an inch, if that…"

"Hello, Nick" said Harry and Lucy together.

"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round. He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Harry and Lucy could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.

"You both look troubled, young Potters," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.

"You do, too, Nick," said Lucy.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance…. It's not as though I really wanted to join…. Thought I'd apply, but apparently I don't fulfill requirements'–"

In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting his forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Oh–yes…."

"Well–naturally…."

They were obviously supposed to agree.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However–" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously:

"'_We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have_

_parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate_

_that it will be impossible otherwise for members to_

_participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-_

_Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, _

_therefore, that I inform you that you do not ful-_

_fill our requirements. With our very best wishes, Sir Pat-_

_rick Delaney-Podmore.'"_

Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.

Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry, Lucy! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore!"

Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, "So–what's bothering both of you? Anything I can do?"

"No," said Harry. "Not unless you know where we can get eight free Nimbus Two Thousand and One's for our next match against Sly–"

The rest of Harry's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near his and Lucy's ankles. They both looked down and found themselves gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.

"You'd both better get out of here, Harry, Lucy," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood–he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees both of you dripping mud all over the place–"

"Right," said Harry and Lucy, both of them backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry on Lucy's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breakers. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the two muddy puddles that had dripped from Harry and Lucy's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potters!"

So Harry and Lucy waved gloomy good-byes to Nearly Headless Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor.

Harry and Lucy had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry and Lucy could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he as always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk, and began shuffling around looking for parchment.

"Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies… from brains… rat intestines… I've had enough of it… make an _example…_ where's the forms… yes…."

He retrieved two large rolls of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched them both out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the inkpot.

"_Names…_ Harry Potter. Lucy Potter. _Crimes…"_

"It was just a little bit of mud!" Lucy protested.

"It may be just a little bit of mud to you and your brother, girl, but to me it's an extra hour of scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. _"Crimes…_ befouling the castle… _suggested sentences…"_

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry and Lucy, who both waited with baited breath for their sentences to fall.

But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backwards glance at either of the twins, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.

Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harry and Lucy didn't much like Peeves, but they both couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from them.

"I suppose we should wait for him to come back," said Lucy.

"Yeah, probably," said Harry.

They sank into moth-eaten chairs next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from their half-completed forms: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With quick glances at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and held it up so he and Lucy could read it:

KWIKSPELL

_A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic_

"Kwikspell? What's that?" said Harry.

"I don't know. I've never heard of it before," said Lucy.

Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page said:

_Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wandwork? There is an answer!_

_Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefitted from the Kwikspell method!_

_Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:_

"_I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the center of attention at parties and friends beg for my recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"_

_Warlock D.J. Prod of Didsbury says:_

"_My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak!_

_Thank you, Kwikspell!"_

Fascinated, Harry and Lucy thumbed through the rest of the envelope's contents.

"Why on earth would Filch want a Kwikspell course?" Lucy whispered.

"Maybe he's not really a proper wizard," Harry whispered back.

They were just reading "Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)" when shuffling footsteps outside told them Filch was coming back. Stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Harry threw it back onto the desk and flung himself in the moth-eaten chair next to Lucy just as the door opened.

Filch was looking triumphant.

"That Vanishing Cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Mrs. Norris. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet–"

His eyes fell on Harry and Lucy and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope, which Harry and Lucy realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started.

Filch's pasty face went bright red. Harry and Lucy braced themselves for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope, and threw it into a drawer.

"Have you two–did you two read–?" he spluttered.

"No," Harry and Lucy lied quickly.

Filch's knobby hands were twisting together.

"If I thought you both would read my private–not that it's mine–for a friend–be that as it may–however–"

Harry and Lucy stared at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was growing in one of his sallow cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help.

"Very well–go–and don't breathe a word–not that–however, if you two didn't read–go now, I have to write up Peeves' report–go–"

Amazed at their luck, Harry and Lucy sped out of the office, up the corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.

"Harry! Lucy! Did it work?"

Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harry and Lucy could see the wreckage of a large, black-and-gold cabinet that appeared to have been dropped from a great height.

"I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," said Nick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him–"

"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully "Yeah, it worked, we didn't even get detention."

"Yes, thank you so much, Nick!" said Lucy. "We really owe you one!"

They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, the twins noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter.

"We really are sorry about you not being able to join the Headless Hunt," said Lucy.

"I wish there was something we could do for you about it," said Harry.

Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry and Lucy walked right through him. They wished they hadn't; it was like stepping through an icy shower.

"But there _is_ something you could both do for me," said Nick excitedly. "Harry, Lucy–would I be asking too much–but no, you two wouldn't want–"

"What is it?" said the twins together.

"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.

"Oh," said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. "Right."

"You died on Halloween?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Oh, yes. One of the best days to die," he proudly exclaimed. Harry and Lucy, not trusting their voices to respond politely, stayed silent and stared at him. "Anyways, I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an _honor_ if you would both attend. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, of course–but I daresay you'd both rather go to the school feast?" He watched Harry and Lucy on tenterhooks.

"No," said Harry quickly. "We'll come."

"It's the least we can do after all you've done for us," said Lucy.

"My goodness! Harry and Lucy Potter at my deathday party! And" –he hesitated, looking excited– "do you two think you could _possibly _mention to Sir Patrick how _very_ frightening and impressive you both find me?"

"Of–of course," said Harry and Lucy.

Nearly Headless Nick beamed at them.

* * *

"A deathday party?" said Hermione keenly when Harry and Lucy had both changed at last and joined her and Ron in the common room. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those–it'll be fascinating."

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me…."

Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, but inside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster Firework to a salamander. Fred had "rescued" the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smoldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot of curious people.

Harry and Lucy were at the point of telling Ron and Hermione about Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly around the room. The sound of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth and its escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope from Harry and Lucy's minds.

* * *

By the time Halloween had arrived, Harry and Lucy were both regretting their rash promise to go to the deathday party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating the Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded the twins bossily. "You both _said_ you'd go to the deathday party."

So at seven o'clock, Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione walked straight past the doorway to the Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the dungeons.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, though, the effect was from cheerful: There were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with ever step they took. As Lucy shivered and drew her robes tightly around her, she heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be _music?"_ Ron whispered. They turned the corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come…"

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them, it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.

"I suppose. We did come, after all, so we may as well try to enjoy ourselves," said Lucy, fighting the urge to let her teeth chatter

"Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously and they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. The twins weren't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in sliver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn! I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle–"

"What? Myrtle's here?" Lucy asked worriedly.

"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.

"She's the ghost that haunts the toilet in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," said Lucy.

"She haunts a _toilet?"_

"Yes," said Hermione. "It's been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. We never went in there anyway if we could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at us–"

"Look, food!" said Ron.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words:

SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON

DIED 31ST October, 1492

Harry and Lucy watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wipe so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked him.

"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

"I expect they've left it out to give it a stronger flavor," said Hermione knowledgably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.

They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.

"Hello, there, Peeves," said Lucy cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolting bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," said Hermione.

"Heard you guys talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. _"Rude _you all were about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed, "OI! MYRTLE!"

"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what we said, she'll be really upset," Lucy frantically begged in a low whisper.

"We didn't mean it," said Hermione. "We don't mind her–er, hello, Myrtle."

The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Harry had ever seen, but that Lucy was accustomed to from her few ventures to the haunted bathroom, half-hidden behind black hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

"What?" she said sulkily.

"How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."

"Are you enjoying the party?" said Lucy, mimicking her cheeriness.

Myrtle sniffed.

"Miss Granger and Miss Potter were just talking about you–" said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear.

"Just saying–saying–how nice you look tonight," said Hermione, glaring at Peeves.

Myrtle eyed Hermione and Lucy suspiciously.

"You're both making fun of me," she said, silver tears wailing rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

"No–honestly–didn't we just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" said Lucy, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah–"

"They did–"

"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"

"You forgot pimply," Peeves hissed in her ear.

Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with moldy peanuts, yelling, _"Pimply! Pimply!"_

"Oh, dear," said Hermione sadly.

Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd.

"Enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh, yes," they lied.

"Not a bad turnout," said Nearly Headless Nick proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent…. It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra…."

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement as a hunting horn sounded.

"Oh, here we go," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry and Lucy started to clap, too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick's face.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "How are you?" Head still hanging in there?"

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick," said Nick stiffly.

"Live'uns!" said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again (the crowd howled with laughter).

"Very amusing," said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

"Don't mind Nick!" shouted Sir Patrick's head from the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say–look at the fellow–"

"We think," said Harry hurriedly, at a meaningful look he and Lucy received from Nick. "Nick's very–frightening and–er–"

"A-and impressive!" Lucy squeaked.

"Ha!" yelled Sir Patrick's head. "Bet he asked you two to say that!"

"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, striding toward the podium and climbing into an icy blue spotlight.

"My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…"

But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd was turning to watch. Nearly Headless Nick tried vainly to recapture his audience, but gave up as Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him to loud cheers.

Lucy was very cold by now, not to mention hungry.

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered, his teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor."

"Let's go," Lucy agreed.

They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.

And then Harry and Lucy heard it.

"… _rip…. tear… kill…"_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice they had heard in Lockhart's office.

They both stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stonewall, listening with all their might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, Lucy, what're you both–?"

"It's that voice–the voice we told you guys about–"

"Yeah–shut up a minute–"

"… _so hungry… for so long…"_

"Listen!" said the twins urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching them.

"… _kill… time to kill…"_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry and Lucy were sure it was moving away–moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped them as they stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way," Harry shouted, and he and Lucy began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry and Lucy sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron and Hermione clattering behind them.

"Harry, Lucy, what're we–"

"SHH!"

"Don't talk!"

Harry and Lucy strained their ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, they heard the voice: _"…. I smell blood…. I SMELL BLOOD!"_

Their stomachs lurched–

"It's going to kill someone!" Lucy shouted, and ignoring Ron and Hermione's bewildered faces, she and Harry ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, both of them trying to listen over their own pounding footsteps–

They hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind them, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, Lucy, _what_ was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything…."

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"_Look!"_

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that thing–hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Lucy almost slipped–there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Harry and Hermione grabbed her, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All four of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"But we can't just leave her like–" Lucy began, taking a tentative step forward.

"No, trust me," said Ron, grabbing her arm. "We don't want to be found here."

It was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.


	9. The Writing on the Wall

**Okay, to begin with, I'd like to apologize for my angry outburst last chapter, but before any of you consider me to be really sensitive to criticism, understand please that I have medication I take for my depression and anxiety problems, and I forgot to take them that day. And the reason why I take them? Bullies. So, reading all those negative reviews when I was off my medicine made me think,**

**'My God, I've got bullies in the real world who make fun of my work in fanfiction because they think it's stupid, and now I have cyber bullies on my favorite website, who really are treating every chapter like crap because they think the way I'm writing them is stupid!'**

**So, again, I apologize if I seemed really immature and like a little kid last chapter.**

**Still, though, I guess I can tell you for now that when it comes to Lucy developing as an individual character and exploring more traits that make her different from Harry, I have to say that I really don't even WANT to make them appear until Prisoner of Azkaban due to my way of psychological thinking about how _i_ would behave if the only person I had that I could even talk to for eleven years due to living with an abusive family such as the Dursleys was my twin brother:  
**

**Imagine, if you were living with people such as the Dursleys, with only your brother as a friend both inside and outside the house, and although you are brave when it comes to life-or-death scenarios, but you are as timid as Lucy generally is during everyday life at Hogwarts such as how she reacts to even her crush Draco Malfoy, you would generally try to imitate your brother, who you find to be much stronger than you are in both situations.  
**

**That's the reason why I'm keeping things as they are for right now. I find Prisoner of Azkaban to be the perfect chance to start developing Lucy more because in that story, she will turn thirteen, which is labeled to be the defining age for children to be turning into teenagers. I have A LOT planned for Lucy in that book, so please, just be patient for another nine chapters!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: ****The Writing on the Wall**

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry and Lucy.

"_You two!"_ he screeched. _"You two!_ You two've murdered my cat! You two've killed her! I'll kill you both! I'll–"

"_Argus!"_

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. and Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster–just upstairs–please feel free–"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professor McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Lucy saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her–probably the Transmogrifan Torture–I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…."

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as she detested Filch, Lucy couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as she felt for herself and Harry. If Dumbledore believed Filch, they would both be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand, but nothing happened: She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"… I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…."

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore had straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead," choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all–all stiff and frozen?"

"She's been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say…."

"Ask _them!"_ shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry and Lucy.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced–"

"They did it, they did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what the two of them wrote on the wall! They found–in my office–they know I'm a–I'm a–" Filch's face worked horribly. "They both know I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"We never even _touched_ Mrs. Norris!" Lucy said loudly, she and Harry uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at them, including all the Lockharts on the walls.

"And we don't even know what a Squib _is!"_ added Harry.

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "They saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I may speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry and Lucy's senses of foreboding increased; they were both sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do either of them any good.

"Mr. and Miss Potter and their friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the Halloween feast?"

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. "… there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there–"

"But why not join the feast afterwards?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go to that corridor?"

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry and Lucy.

"We came this way because we, well, we heard a voice," Lucy answered automatically. Snape's brows furrowed.

"A voice?" he questioned. Lucy nodded.

"Yes, sir," she said. "It said–"

"–that the feast was already over," Harry said quickly, interrupting her. "We thought it was another student taking their time leaving the feast." He knew Lucy meant well by trying to tell the teachers about the voice, but he couldn't let her. Something told him it would sound very far-fetched if they told them they had been led there by a bodiless voice that no one but the two of them could hear.

"And none of you thought to check and be sure?" said Snape.

"Well, we were all tired anyways and wanted to go to bed," he said.

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smirk flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided foot fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Snape's nasty smile widened.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Mr. Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to let Miss Potter–whom I'm expecting was about to tell us the actual truth before he interrupted–tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he's ready to be as honest as his sister."

"Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I see no reason to stop the boy from playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Mr. Potter has done anything wrong."

"Except for what Miss Potter was about to say before he interrupted," he countered.

Dumbledore turned to Lucy, who turned a light shade of pink. "What were you going to say before, Lucy?" he asked her.

"J-just what Harry, said, sir," she stuttered. She didn't understand why her brother had stopped her from telling the truth, but she did know that she had to cover up for him because of it now. "We thought we heard someone saying that the feast was over…."

Dumbledore was giving Lucy a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Lucy fell as though she was being X-rayed.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said finally.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some _punishment!"_

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. A soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep–"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione.

They went, as quickly as they could without running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quickly behind them. As soon as it was shut, Lucy rounded on Harry.

"What was _that_ for?" she snapped. "Why did you stop me from telling them the truth about that weird voice, Harry?"

"I just thought it might have sounded really far-fetched and they would have another reason not to believe us," he explained. Then he turned to Ron and Hermione. "What, d'you guys think I should have let her tell them about the voice we both heard?"

"No," said Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world."

Something in Ron's voice made Lucy have to ask, "What, you do believe us, don't you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But–you must admit it's weird…."

"We know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing is weird. What was that writing on the wall about? _The Chamber Has Been Opened…._ What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once… might've been Bill…."

"And what on earth's a Squib?" said Lucy.

To her and Harry's surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.

"Well–it's not funny really–but as it's Filch," he said. "A Squib is someone who was born into a Wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch is trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron gave a satisfied smile. "He's bitter and jealous."

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. The twins had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skewer's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy."

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking–" Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but now she was doing almost nothing else. Nor could Harry, Lucy, and Ron get much of a response from her when they asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did they find out why.

Harry had been held back in Potions, when Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. Lucy had waited for him outside in the dungeon corridors. After a hurried lunch, they went upstairs to meet Ron in the library, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello, and Lucy had been raising her arm to wave to him, when Justin caught sight of them, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction. Harry and Lucy stared at his retreating form.

"What was that about?" said Harry.

"I don't know," said Lucy.

The twins found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns has asked for a three-foot-long composition on "The Medieval Assembly on European Wizards."

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short…." Said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. "And Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing's _tiny._

"Where did she go?" asked Lucy as Harry grabbed the tape measure and unrolled his own homework.

"Somewhere over there," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas."

Harry and Lucy told Ron about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from them.

"Dunno why either of you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," said Ron, scribbling away, making his writing as large as possible. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great–"

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked irritable and at last ready to talk to them.

"_All_ the copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and Lucy. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I _wish_ I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all my Lockhart books."

"_That's _what you've been looking for?" said Lucy with surprise. "You should have just asked me if you could borrow mine. I brought mine with me when Harry and I left the Dursleys."

"You have your copy here?" asked Hermione. Lucy nodded.

"Yeah, but why do you want it?"

"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that?" Harry asked quickly.

"That's just it, I can't remember," said Hermione, biting her lip. "I wish I had known you had brought your copy earlier, Lucy. It would have saved me loads of time searching for it somewhere else–"

"Hermione, let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.

"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly severe. "You've had ten days to finish it–"

"I only need another two inches, come on–"

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering. When they were about to enter, Hermione suddenly turned to Lucy.

"Actually, Lucy, I don't think I'll be needing to borrow your copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ after all."

"Huh? But why not?"

"Oh, you'll see during class."

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staffroom fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, and then falling asleep again. He had ben speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looking amazed.

"Miss–er–?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with _facts,_ Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued. "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerer's–"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, the twins were sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a _sensational,_ even _ludicrous _tale–"

But now the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, ever face turned to his. Harry and Lucy could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago–the precise date is uncertain–by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was still feared by the common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more _selective_ about students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was a silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir–what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"There is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, it does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else _would_ be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flatherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found a thing–"

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it–"

"Just because a witch or wizard _doesn't_ use Dark Magic doesn't mean he or she _can't,_ Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore–"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't–" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to _history, _to solid, believable, verifiable _facts!"_

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Harry, Lucy, and Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. "But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his House if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home."

Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry and Lucy didn't say anything. Their stomachs had just dropped unpleasantly.

Harry and Lucy had not told Ron, Hermione, or each other that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting _them_ in Slytherin. They could both remember, as though it were yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in their ears when they'd placed the hat on their heads a year before:

"_You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that…."_

"_You do have many traits that would make a fine Gryffindor, but like your brother, you also be a great Slytherin."_

But Harry and Lucy, who had already heard of Slytherin House's reputation for turning out Dark witches and wizards (and in Lucy's case, had already seen Draco Malfoy sorted into Slytherin), had thought desperately,

"_Not Slytherin!"_

"_No, not Slytherin! Anything but Slytherin!"_

And the hat had said,

"_Oh, well, if you're sure… better be Gryffindor…."_

"_No? Well then, better be… Gryffindor…."_

As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevey went past.

"Hiya, Harry, Lucy!"

"Hi there, Colin," said Lucy cheerfully.

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry automatically.

"Harry–Lucy–a boy in my class has been saying you're both–"

But Colin was so small he couldn't fight against the tide of people beating him toward the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, "See you, Harry, Lucy!" and he was gone.

"What's a boy in his class saying about you guys?" Hermione wondered.

"That one of us is Slytherin's heir, probably," said Lucy sadly, remembering the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from them at lunchtime.

"People here'll believe anything," said Ron in disgust.

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

"D'you _really_ think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacker her might not be–well–human."

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened."

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.

They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"I agree. How else will the four of us be able to clear our names?" said Lucy, bending down and following his example.

"Scorch marks!" Harry said. "Here–and here–"

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny…."

The twins got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

"No," said Lucy.

"Me neither," said Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

They looked over their shoulders. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"What's wrong?" Lucy said.

"I–don't–like–spiders," said Ron tensely.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times…."

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move…."

Hermione and Lucy giggled.

"It's not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my–my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick… You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…"

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione and Lucy were obviously still trying not to laugh. Feeling they had better get off the subject, Harry said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Don't worry about that, Ron. There won't be anyone inside," said Lucy, walking over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Let's take a look inside."

And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in, but that Lucy had been inside from time-to-time. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror was a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the subs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione and Lucy both put fingers to their lips and set off together toward the end stall. When they reached it, Lucy said, "Hello, Myrtle, how have you been?"

Harry and Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a _girls' _bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. _"They're _not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed. "Lucy and I just wanted to show them how–er–nice it is in here."

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouthed out at Hermione and Lucy.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask–"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I _do_ have feelings, you know, even if I _am_ dead–"

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Lucy gently. "We only–"

"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anything near here that night?" said Harry.

"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill_ myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm–that I'm–"

"Already dead," said Ron helpfully.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugged wearily and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle…."

"Come on," said Lucy with a sigh. "Let's go. I don't think she knows anything that could help us."

They had barely closed the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all four of them jump.

"RON!"

Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.

"That's a _girls'_ bathroom!" he gasped. "What were _you_–_?"_

"Just taking a look around," Ron shrugged. "Clues, you know–"

Percy swelled in a manner that reminded Harry and Lucy forcefully of Mrs. Weasley.

"Get–away–from–there–" Percy said, striding toward them and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. "Don't you _care_ what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner–"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" said Ron hotly, topping short and glaring at Percy. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"

"That's what I told Ginny," said Percy fiercely, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled. I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of _her, _all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business–"

"_You_ don't care about Ginny," said Ron, whose ears were now reddening. _"You're_ just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy–"

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy said tersely, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more _detective work,_ or I'll write to Mum!"

And he strode off, the back of his neck as red as Ron's ears.

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron was still in a very bad temper and kept blotting his Charms homework. When he reached absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment. Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slammed _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ shut. To Harry and Lucy's surprise, Hermione followed suit.

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having. "Who'd _want_ to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, unconvinced.

"If you're talking about Malfoy–"

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "You heard him–_'You'll be next, Mudbloods'_–come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him–"

"Dr-Draco M-Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" Lucy stammered.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son…."

"It-it couldn't be him!" Lucy stuttered out. "I mean, D-Dumbledore himself said that no s-second year could have Petrified Mrs. Norris!"

Hermione stared quizzically at Lucy. Why was she so adamant on denying it? And why was she stuttering?

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible if the part of the legend about only the heir being able to control the monster is true…."

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly, completely missing the frown that stretched across his sisters' face as she looked down at her lap.

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect–"

"If in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" said Ron irritably.

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

"But that's impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed.

"No, it's not," said Hermione. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" said Harry and Lucy together.

"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago–"

"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

"I don't know, Hermione," said Lucy, skeptically. "It sounds really risky. What if we don't find out anything, but end up stuck as four of the Slytherin's for the rest of our lives?"

"It wears off after a while, and if we don't find out anything, then that means he's innocent," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called _Moste Potente Potions_ and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

There was only way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: Students needed a signed note from a teacher.

"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…."

"No," said Lucy suddenly. "There _is_ one teacher we could ask…."

"Who?" said Harry.

"Lockhart."


	10. The Rogue Bludgers

**Wow... I surprise even myself sometimes with how fast I post chapters!  
**

**Please, enjoy! And be sure to review!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Ten:****The Rogue Bludgers**

Since the disastrous episode of the pixie, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry or Lucy to help with these reconstruction; so far, the twins had been forced to play simple Transylvanian villagers whom Lockhart had cured for a Babbling Curse together, and individually, Harry had played a yeti with a head cold, and Lucy had been a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Lucy was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting as a werewolf. If she hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, she would have downright refused to be subject to humiliation in front of the class yet again.

"Nice loud howl, Lucy–exactly–and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced–like this–_slammed _him to the floor–thus–with one hand–I managed to hold him down–with my other, I put my wand to his throat–I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm–he let out a piteous moan–go on, Lucy–higher than that–good–the fur vanished–the fangs shrank–and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective–and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework–compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of _Magical Me_ to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave. Lucy returned to the back of the room, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were waiting.

"You guys ready?"

"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right…."

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Lucy, and Ron right behind her.

"Er–Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to–to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it–I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in _Gadding with Ghouls_ about slow-acting venoms–"

"Ah, _Gadding with Ghouls!"_ said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer–"

"Well I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book signings."

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.

"So, Harry, Lucy," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're both useful players. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if either of you ever feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players…."

Harry and Lucy both made indistinct noises in their throats and then hurried off together after Ron and Hermione.

"I don't believe it," Harry said as the four of them examined the signature on the note. "He didn't even _look_ at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless _git,"_ said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed–"

"He is _not_ a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran toward the library.

"Just because he said you were the best student of the year–"

They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.

"_Moste Potente Potions?"_ she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart will sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.

Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

Hermione opened _Moste Potente Potions _carefully, and the four of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed _The Polyjuice Potion._ It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Harry and Lucy sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione as they scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she muttered, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves…. Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn–don't know where we're going to get that–shredded skin of boomslang–that'll be tricky, too–and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into.

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking _nothing_ with Crabbe's toenails in it–"

Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him.

"We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those last bits last…."

"Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea…."

Lucy had heard enough. She took the book from Hermione and shut it with a snap.

"Well, Harry, if you and Ron are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. _"I_ personally think this whole plan is ludicrous, but if it's the only way to prove for sure whether Malfoy's innocent or not, then I'll do it. _I_ think we shouldn't be breaking any more rules considering we're still in rocky waters after the whole car incident, you know, _but_ Ithink threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy and want _Hermione_ here to be Petrified next, I'll personally go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in on Hermione's behalf!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at her as she finished, panting heavily.

"All right, all right, we'll do it," said Ron after a few long moments. "But no toenails, okay?"

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry as Hermione, looking suspiciously at Lucy, took back the book and opened it again.

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days… I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" But Hermione and Lucy's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say!"

However, while Hermione and Lucy were checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you or Lucy can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

* * *

Harry and Lucy both woke early on Sunday morning and laid in bed for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. They were both nervous, though for different reasons.

Harry was mainly thinking about what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy.

Lucy had her thoughts solely on Draco Malfoy. She was about to play against him, her long-time crush. What if she froze up there on the field? What if she took the taunts he would surely throw at her as a distraction to heart and _really _get distracted and lose her focus on the game? What if it came down to her and him racing for the Golden Snitch? What would she do if that happened? Catch the Snitch and live with the hate he would surely harbor against her, or let him catch it and deal with the rest of Gryffindor House's anger? The scenario's kept playing through her head.

After half an hour of lying there with their insides churning, they both got up, dressed, met up with each other in the common room, and went down to breakfast early together, where they found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table all looking uptight and not speaking much.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry and Lucy good luck as they entered the locker rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, and then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better _people_ on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers–" ("Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August") "–and we're going to make them rue the day they let that bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry and Lucy.

"It'll be down to both of you, Harry, Lucy, to show them that Seeker's have to have more than fancy brooms. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy and Creston or die trying, Harry, Lucy, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harry, Lucy," said Fred, winking at them.

As they walked onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the sixteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry and Lucy flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

"All right there, Scarheads?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath them as though to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry had no time to shout back a retort, and Lucy didn't have time to even blush. At that moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward them; they avoided it, Lucy so narrowly she felt it whip against the end of one of her pigtails as it passed.

"Close one, Harry, Lucy!" said George, streaking past them with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry and Lucy saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Lucy again.

Lucy dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Lucy's head.

Just as George knocked it away again, the second Bludger came whirling into view, aiming at Harry. George only barely managed to blast it away. But like the other Bludger, it swerved around in its course and came back, barreling its way toward Harry.

Harry and Lucy both put on bursts of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. They could hear the Bludgers whistling along behind them.

"What's going on, Harry?" Lucy shouted. "Why are the Bludgers only coming after us?"

"I don't know!" he shouted back. "They're not supposed to concentrate on individual players like this; they're supposed to try and go after as many people as possible…."

Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludgers at the other end. Harry and Lucy both ducked as Fred swung at both the Bludgers with all his might; the Bludgers were knocked off course.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though they were magnetically attracted to the Gryffindor Seekers, the Bludgers pelted after them once more and Harry and Lucy were forced to fly at full speed.

It had started to rain; Lucy felt heavy drops fall onto her face. She and Harry didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until they heard Lee Jordon, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero–"

The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludgers were doing all they could to knock Harry and Lucy out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to them on either side that Harry and Lucy could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

"Someone's–tampered–with–the–Bludgers–" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at one as it launched a new attack at Harry.

"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the other Bludger from breaking Lucy's nose at the same time.

Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle ran out and Harry, Lucy, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludgers.

"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. And where are the Bludgers? I've haven't seen either of them since the game started."

"The Bludgers were twenty feet above all of you, trying to murder Harry and Lucy, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed them–they won't leave Harry and Lucy alone. They haven't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to them."

But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…." Said Wood, anxiously.

Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Harry and Lucy could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in their direction.

"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me and Lucy all the time the only way either of us are going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up one of our sleeves. You're going to have to let us deal with them on our own."

"Don't be thick," said Fred. "They'll take your heads off."

Wood was look from the Potters to the Weasleys.

"Both Bludgers are going after you both," he said finally. "They won't have a job if they leave you alone."

"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinnet angrily. "You can't let Harry and Lucy deal with the Bludgers on their own. Let's ask for an inquiry–"

"I have an idea," said Lucy suddenly. "Fred, George, what if you both fly _behind_ each of us? With both the Bludgers aiming at us, the Slytherin Beaters are no doubt going to try to help them hit us. If you can prevent that from happening, you two will still have a job in the game, and Harry and I will be able to look for the Snitch."

"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell them–"

Madam Hooch had joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined looks on Harry and Lucy's faces.

"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Lucy–both of you are to fly behind her and Harry and keep the Slytherin Beaters from trying to help the Bludgers hit them."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry and Lucy kicked hard into the air in opposite directions and heard the telltale whoosh of each of the Bludgers behind them, followed by one of the Weasleys. Fred was trailing Harry, and George was trailing Lucy. Higher and higher Lucy climbed; she looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Despite being dizzy, she never the less kept her eyes wide open; rain was running into her nostrils and ears as she hung upside down, narrowly avoiding the Bludger's boost of speed from being pelted by one of the Slytherin Beaters, and being knocked away again by George. She could hear laughter from the crowd; she knew she must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as she could; she began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood, and Roy Creston was hovering about, searching for the Snitch, too–

"GEORGE! GET OVER HERE!" shouted Fred from across the field.

Lucy turned her head. After missing her again, the Slytherin Beater that had been tailing her had flown over to his fellow Beater that was after Harry. Together, they were now playing a game of tennis, with the Bludger as the tennis ball, and Harry as their intended target. Fred was only barely fending them off on his own.

"Look after yourself, Lucy!" George shouted over his shoulder at Lucy before zipping off to help Fred and Harry. She almost froze up, but a whistling in her ear told Lucy that the Bludger had just missed her again; she gulped nervously, and sped off in the opposite direction.

"You and your brother training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Lucy was forced to do a loop-the-loop to dodge the Bludger, and she fled, the Bludger tailing a few feet behind her, and then, glancing back at Malfoy with a blush on her face, she saw it–_the Golden Snitch._ It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear–and Malfoy, busy laughing at Lucy, hadn't seen it.

For an agonizing moment, Lucy hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM.

She had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had her at last, smashed into her kneecap, and Lucy screamed as she felt her leg break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in her right leg, she slid sideways on her rain-drenched broom, her left knee still crooked over it and left arm clutching on tightly–the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at her face–Lucy swerved out the way, one idea firmly lodged in her numb brain: _don't let Malfoy get the Snitch._

Through a haze of rain and pain she dived for the shimmering, sneering face below her and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Lucy was attacking him.

"What the–" he gasped, careening out of Lucy's way.

Lucy took her right arm off her broom and made a wild snatch; she felt her fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping her broom with the left side of her body, and there was a yell from the crowd below as she headed straight for the ground, struggling with all her might not to pass out.

With a splattering thud she hit the mud and rolled off her broom with a bloodcurdling scream. Her leg was bent at a strange angle; riddled with pain, she heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. She focused on the Snitch clutched in her hand and weakly smiled.

"Aha," she vaguely whispered. "We won…."

And she passed out.

She came around, rain falling on her face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over her. She saw a glimmer of teeth.

"Great, it's you," she moaned sarcastically.

"Doesn't know what she's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. Harry pushed his way to the front and knelt down beside Lucy's head.

"Lucy! Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"Do I look like I'm alright, Harry?" Lucy groaned out.

"You will be in a moment," said Lockhart. "Not to worry, Lucy. I'm about to fix your leg."

"_No!"_ said Harry at once. "Not you!"

"I'll keep it like this until I see Madam Pomfrey, thanks," said Lucy.

She tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. She heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

"Don't photograph this, Colin," Harry said loudly.

"Lie back, Lucy," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times–"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Lucy through clenched teeth.

"She really should, Professor," said a Muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his female Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Lucy, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say–"

Through the thicket of legs around her, Lucy spotted Fred, George, Katie, and Angelina, wrestling the rogue Bludgers into a box. There were both still putting up a terrible fight.

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

"Wait–don't–" said Lucy weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Lucy's leg.

A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Lucy's hip and spread all the way down to her toes. If felt as though her leg was being deflated. She didn't dare look at what was happening. She had shut her eyes, her face turned away from her leg, but her worst fears were realized as the people above her gasped, and her brother roaring out, "What did you _do_ to her?" Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. Her leg didn't hurt anymore–nor did it feel remotely like a leg.

"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Lucy, just toddle up to the hospital wing–ah, maybe your brother, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger could help escort you? –and Madam Pomfrey will be able to–er–tidy you up a bit."

As Harry helped Lucy to stand on her good leg, she felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her right side. What she saw nearly made her pass out again.

Poking out of the end of her robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored piece of elastic sticking out of her boot. She tried to move her toes. Nothing happened. Lockhart hadn't mended Lucy's bones. He had removed them.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp reminder of what, half an hour before, had been a working leg. "I can mend bones in a second–but growing them back–"

"You will be able to, won't you?" said Lucy desperately.

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Lucy a pair of pajamas. "You'll have to stay the night…."

Harry and Ron waited outside the curtain drawn around Lucy's bed while Hermione helped her ease into it, and then into her pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless leg into a pants leg.

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as Hermione pulled Lucy's limp toes through the cuff. "If Lucy had wanted deboning she would have asked."

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Lucy?"

"No," said Lucy, leaning back against the pillows. "But doesn't do anything else either."

Harry, Ron, and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labeled _Skele-Gro._

"You're in for a rough night, Miss Potter," she said, pouring out a steaming cupful and handing it to her. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Lucy's mouth and throat as it went down, making her cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to help Lucy gulp down some water.

"We won, though," said Ron, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made, Lucy. Malfoy's face… he looked ready to kill…."

"What I want to know is how he fixed those Bludgers," said Harry darkly.

"We can add that to the list of questions we'll have to ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Hermione.

"Ugh… I just hope it tastes better than this stuff…." Said Lucy, sinking back onto her pillows.

"If it's got bits of Slytherins in it? You've got to be joking," said Ron.

The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Lucy.

"Sorry, I feel somewhat responsible for all this, Lucy," said George. "If I hadn't left you, you probably wouldn't have a boneless leg right now."

"There's nothing to apologize for, George," said Lucy. "It's not as if _you_ were the one tampered with the Bludger or actually was the one who turned my bones into mush. In fact, if you hadn't left me when you did, Harry would probably be in my place, right now."

"Still, unbelievable flying, Lucy," said Fred. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."

They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around Lucy's bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This girl needs rest; she's got thirty-two bones to regrow! Out! OUT!"

And Lucy was left alone, with nothing to distract her from the stabbing pains in her limp leg.

* * *

Hours and hours later, Lucy woke quite suddenly in the pitch-blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: Her leg now felt full of splinters. For a second, she thought that was what had woken her. Then, with a thrill of horror, she realized that someone was sponging her forehead in the dark.

"Stop it!" she said loudly, and then, _"Dobby!"_

The house elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Lucy through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

"Harry and Lucy Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry and Lucy Potter. Ah miss, why didn't you and sir heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry and Lucy Potter go back home when they missed the train?"

Lucy was too shocked by his sudden appearance that she didn't say anything for several moments. When she at last found her voice, she heaved herself up on her pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away.

"Does Harry know you're here at Hogwarts?" she asked. It was the first thing that popped into her head.

Dobby shook his head, his bat-like ears flapping uncontrollably.

"No, miss, Dobby was ordered not to speak to sir by Young Master, but even if Young Master hadn't forbidden it, Dobby wouldn't. He is around too many people right now, miss."

Lucy was lost by what he meant by Harry being around too many people for a few seconds, but then she realized he meant the other boys in the second year boys' dormitory. Then more questions sprang into her head.

"Hold on, I thought your Young Master didn't know about you visiting me and Harry over the summer. Did he find out about it?"

"Oh, no, miss," said the elf. "Dobby was never found out for his crime of sneaking away to see you, miss, and sir, by Young or Old Master. But Young Master called Dobby to Hogwarts today out of worry for you, miss."

Lucy was about to ask more about his Young Master, but something he had said before suddenly occurred to her.

"Hang on," she said, "you asked earlier why Harry and I came here instead of going home after we missed the train. How do _you_ even know about that?"

Dobby's lip trembled, and Lucy was seized by a sudden suspicion.

"It was _you!"_ she said slowly. _"You _stopped the barrier from letting Harry, Ron, and me through!"

"Indeed, yes, miss," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry and Lucy Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward" –he showed Lucy ten long, bandaged fingers–"Dobby didn't care, miss, for he thought Harry and Lucy Potter was safe, and _never_ did Dobby dream that Harry and Lucy Potter would get to school another way!"

He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head.

"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry and Lucy Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let Old Master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, miss…."

Lucy slumped back onto her pillows.

"You nearly got Harry, Ron, and me expelled," she said fiercely. "You'd better scram before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might just jump out of this bed and strangle you!"

Dobby smiled weakly.

"Dobby's used to death threats, miss. Dobby gets them five times a day from Old Master at home."

He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Lucy felt her anger ebb away in spite of herself.

"Why do you wear that thing anyway, Dobby?" she asked curiously.

"This, miss?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, miss. Dobby can only be freed if his family present him with clothes, miss. Old Master is careful to make sure that Young Master doesn't sneak Dobby even a sock, miss, for then he would be free to leave their house forever. Young Master wishes to free Dobby, but Old Master will never allow it."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry and Lucy Potter _must_ go home! Dobby thought his Bludgers would be enough to make–"

"_Your_ Bludgers?" said Lucy, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, _your _Bludgers? _You_ made those Bludgers try and kill me and Harry?"

"Not kill both of you, miss, never kill both of you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry and Lucy Potter's lives! And Young Master called me here today out of worry for you, miss! Dobby doesn't understand why he only cared about you and not Harry Potter, miss, but he told Dobby to do what Dobby can to make sure you, miss, be sent home! And Dobby thought, 'better for Harry and Lucy Potter to be sent home together, grievously injured, than remain here,' miss! Dobby only wanted Harry and Lucy Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"

"Oh, is that all?" said Lucy angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you and your Young Master wanted me and my brother sent home in pieces?"

"Ah, if Lucy Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If she knew what she and Harry Potter means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, miss! OF course, Dobby is still treated like that, miss, by all except Young Master," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, miss, life has improved for my kind since you and sir triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry and Lucy both survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, miss, and Harry and Lucy Potter shined like beacons of hope for those of us who thought the dark days would never end, miss…. And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are about to happen, are perhaps happening already. Young Master wants to save Lucy Potter, but Dobby wants to save Harry _and_ Lucy Potter! Dobby cannot let Harry and Lucy Potter stay here now that history is about to repeat itself–now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more–"

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Lucy's water jug from her bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…"

"So there _is_ a Chamber of Secrets?" Lucy whispered. "And–history is going to repeat itself? It's been opened _before?_ Tell me, Dobby!"

She the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jut. "But Harry and I aren't Muggle-borns–how can we be in danger from the Chamber?"

"Ah, miss, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry and Lucy Potter must not be here when they happen–go home, both Harry and Lucy Potter must go home. Harry and Lucy Potter must not meddle in this, miss, 'tis too dangerous–"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Lucy said in an urgent voice, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Your Young Master? Who opened it last time? Your Old Master?"

"Dobby can't, miss, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Young Master did not open the Chamber, miss. He is as clueless as you are as to whom opened it, but he knows of the dangers inside it, and he wishes to save you! But Dobby wishes to save Harry _and_ Lucy Potter! Go home! Harry and Lucy Potter must go home!"

"Harry and I aren't leaving!" said Lucy fiercely. "Listen to me, Dobby, Harry and I have a friend who is Muggle-born; she'll be the first one in line if the Chamber really has been opened–"

"Harry and Lucy Potter risk their lives for their friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But you and he must save yourselves, miss, Harry and Lucy Potter must not–"

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Lucy heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and Lucy's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. She slumped back into bed, her eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.

Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Lucy's bed and out of sight. Lucy lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. She heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Miss Potter."

Lucy's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, she raised herself a few inches so she could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.

Lucy fought the urge to gasp.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think… if Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate–who knows what might have–"

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera.

"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Lucy, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted…"

"What does this _mean,_ Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked gently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.

"But, Albus… surely… _who?"_

"The question is not _who,"_ said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, _how?"_

And from what Lucy could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, her teacher didn't understand this any better than she did.


	11. The Dueling Club

******Well, I must say that I'm really happy with how this chapter came out. I put all lot of thought of what should happen with Lucy in the Dueling Club, and both fights are completely of my own imagination. So for once, I didn't copy word-for-word! Kudos to me!  
**

**Remember, be sure to review!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven:****The Dueling Club**

Lucy woke up on Sunday morning to find the hospital wing blazed with winter sunlight and her leg reboned but very stiff. She sat up quickly and looked over at Colin's bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Lucy had changed behind yesterday. A lonely tear slid down her cheek as she recalled what Professor McGonagall had said the night before. Colin was Petrified because he had wanted to visit her. She couldn't help but feel guilty.

Seeing that she was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching her leg and toes.

"All in order," she said as Lucy fed herself the bowl of porridge. "When you've finished eating, you may leave."

Lucy dressed as quickly as she could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Harry, Ron, and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren't there. Lucy left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren't interested in whether she had her bones back or not.

As Lucy passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits then the last time they'd met.

"Oh, hello, Lucy," he said. "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup–you earned fifty points!"

"You haven't seen my brother, Ron, or Hermione, have you?" said Lucy.

"No, I haven't," said Percy, his smile fading. "But I hope Ron's not in another _girls' toilet…."_

Lucy forced herself to laugh, watched Percy walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She couldn't see why Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, she opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked stall.

"It's me," she said, closing the door behind her. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and she saw Hermione's eye peering though the keyhole.

"_Lucy!" _she said. "You gave us such a fright–come in."

"How's your leg, Luce?" came her brother's voice on the other side of the stall.

"Much better," said Lucy, squeezing into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling fire under the rim told Lucy they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a specialty of Hermione's.

"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as Lucy, with much difficulty, locked the stall again.

"And we're making it inside a bathroom stall because…?"

"We decided that this would be the safest place to hide it," said Harry.

"Oh."

Lucy started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.

"We already know–we overheard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we better get going–"

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, to took it out on Gryffindor."

"Everyone knows that you considered Colin to be your friend," said Harry. "And because he was so angry that you made him look like a fool during the game, he went after Colin to get even with you."

"It's not just Colin I was about to tell all of you about," said Lucy, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit me last night."

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry's eyes went wide.

"_Dobby?"_ he said in shock. Lucy nodded, and told them everything Dobby had told her–or hadn't told her. Harry, Hermione, and Ron listened with their mouths open.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been open _before?"_ said Hermione.

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious."

"L-let's not jump to conclusions!" said Lucy quickly. "We won't know for sure until the Polyjuice Potion is complete!"

Hermione gazed at her out of the corner of her eye, studying her bright red cheeks.

"My question is: Why is Dobby's so-called Young Master so keen on protecting _only_ you, Lucy?" said Harry abruptly. "Dobby wants to help both of us, but his Young Master just wants to help you? That doesn't make any sense."

"That is pretty fishy," said Ron. "Lucy, can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against Harry, but likes you?"

She shook her head.

"We'll have to keep our eyes open, then, from now on," said Hermione. "We can't even try to figure out _why_ Dobby's Young Master only wants to protect Lucy and not Harry until we figure out _who_ Dobby's Young Master even is."

"Good point," said Ron. "But I wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though, Lucy. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself–pretend to be a suit of armor or something–I've read about Charmeleon Ghouls–"

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top on the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing back and looked at Harry and Lucy.

"So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and sent rogue Bludgers after both of you, resulting in Lucy breaking her leg…." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry, Lucy? If he doesn't stop trying to save your lives he's going to kill you both."

* * *

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now laying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight knit groups, as though they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Harry and Lucy agreed that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor second years pointed out that he was in no danger; he was pureblood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

* * *

In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione signed her list; they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. Even Lucy couldn't deny that. The holidays would be the perfect time to use Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape's private stores. Lucy privately felt that she'd rather face a furious Filch than let Snape catch her robbing his office.

"What we need," said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon's double Potions lesson loomed nearer, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need."

Harry, Lucy, and Ron looked at her nervously.

"I think I better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "You three will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."

The twins smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's Potions class was about as safe as poling a sleeping dragon in the eye.

Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon's lesson proceeded in the usual way. The cauldron's stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindor's work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco Malfoy, who was Snape's favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Harry and Ron, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than either of them could say "Unfair."

Harry's Swelling Solution was far too runny, and Lucy's was much too thick, but they had their minds on more important things. They were waiting for Hermione's signal, and they hardly listened as Snape paused to sneer at their feeble potions. When Snape turned and walked off to bully Neville, Hermione caught Harry and Lucy's eyes and nodded.

Harry ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron as Lucy opened her bag, pulled one of Fred's Filibuster fireworks out, and gave it to him. Harry gave it a quick prod with his wand. The firework began to fizz and spark. Knowing he had only seconds, Harry straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air as Lucy covered her ears; it landed right on target in Goyle's cauldron.

Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate–Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Harry and Lucy saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape's office.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Drought–when I find out the one who did this–"

Harry tried not to laugh as he and Lucy watched Malfoy hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon, whereas Lucy watched with remorse. As half the class lumbered up to Snape's desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, Harry and Lucy saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging.

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall _make_ sure that person is expelled."

Harry and Lucy arranged their faces into what they hoped were puzzled expressions. Snape was looking right at them, and the bell that rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome.

"He knew it was one of us," Harry told Ron and Hermione as they hurried back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "We could tell."

Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

"It'll be ready in two weeks," she said happily.

"Snape can't prove it was either of you," said Ron reassuringly to Harry and Lucy. "What can he do?"

"Being as it's Snape, most likely something horrible," said Lucy as the potion frothed and bubbled.

* * *

A week later, Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club," said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," he said to Harry, Lucy, and Hermione as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

Harry, Lucy, and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us," said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young–maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not–" Harry began, but he ended on a groan, and Lucy face palmed herself with an exasperated sigh: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions–for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now I don't want any of you youngsters to worry–you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Harry muttered in Lucy's ear. Lucy giggled and nodded.

Snape's upper lip was curling. The twins wondered why Lockhart was still smiling. If Snape had been looking at either of _them_ like that they'd have been running as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably.

Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Lucy murmured, watching Snape barring his teeth.

"One–two–three–"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: _"Expelliarmus!"_ There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "D'you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" said Ron.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tuttering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm–as you see, I've lost my wand–ah, thank you, Miss Brown–yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy–however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstration! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me–"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione first.

"Time to split up the dream teams, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner with Finnigan. Miss Granger, you with Miss Bulstrode." He nodded in the direction of a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry and Lucy of a picture they'd seen in _Holidays with Hags._ She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. "Mr. and Miss Potter–"

Harry and Lucy automatically moved toward each other.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, come over here. Let's see what you two make of the famous Potter Twins."

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked a Slytherin girl by the name of Pansy Parkinson, who had a face that reminded Lucy of a pug. Lucy gave her a weak smile that she did not return.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Lucy bowed completely, but Pansy merely sneered and barely inclined her head, never taking her eyes off her.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents–_only_ to disarm them–we don't want any accidents–one… two… three–"

Lucy swung her wand high, but Pansy had already started on "two."

"_Flipendo!" _she shouted. Blue streaks of light shot forth from her wand. Her spell hit Lucy so hard she felt as though she'd been hit over the head with a frying pan. She stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Lucy pointed her wand straight at Pansy and shouted,

"_Expelliarmus!"_

A jet of red sparks hit Pansy in the stomach and she flew back a few feet, landing on her bottom and wheezing.

"_I said Disarm only!"_ Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Pansy crawled around searching for her wand. Just as how Snape had used the Disarming Charm on Lockhart, Lucy had used it on Pansy, and she was now crawling over to where her wand had landed. Lucy hung back, thinking it wouldn't' be right to bewitch Pansy when she didn't have her wand, but this was a mistake; the moment she regained her wand, Pansy sprang up, pointed her wand at Lucy's feet, and hollered,

"_Incendio!"_

The bottom of her robes caught on blue flames. Lucy shrieked, not knowing any spells that could put them out.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

"_Finite Incantatem!"_ he shouted; the flames dancing on the hem of her robes vanished, and Lucy was able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was covering the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done; Harry was glaring daggers at Malfoy, who was doubled-over and recovering, glaring back; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock, and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Lucy leapt forward.

"Get off her!" she shouted, pulling Millicent off her best friend. It was difficult: Millicent was a lot bigger than she was.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan…. Careful there, Miss Fawcett…. Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot–"

"I think I better teach you how to _block_ unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair–Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you–"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox," Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "Why don't we make a new pair? Mr. Malfoy and Miss Potter, perhaps?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing a pink-faced Lucy and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Lucy," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, do _this."_

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops–my wand is a little overexcited–"

Lucy wasn't listening. She was focused solely on Malfoy. How was she supposed to fight him? She knew he wouldn't think twice about cursing her, but she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she seriously injured him.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she saw Snape move closer to Malfoy, bend down, and whisper something in his ear. Malfoy scowled, but nodded. Lucy looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you please show me that blocking thing again?"

But Lockhart cuffed Lucy on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Lucy!"

"What, drop my wand, sir?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three–two–one–go!" he shouted.

But Malfoy didn't do anything.

He just stood there, wand raised, but not doing anything. From the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Snape frown. Whatever Malfoy was doing, it was obviously not what Snape had advised him to do.

"W-what are you doing?" Lucy asked, puzzled as everyone else was as to why he wasn't attacking her.

"Waiting for you to attack me, obviously," he said.

Lucy blinked. Then her cheeks turned bright red once again.

"B-but you're supposed to be attacking _me,"_ she said somewhat shyly. Malfoy smirked.

"You don't think I'm stupid enough as to let my own spell be deflected by the likes of _you_ in this stupid demonstration, do you?" he said smartly. "No, I'd rather see _you_ in that situation, thanks."

"B-but, that's not what we were told to do…" Lucy said timidly.

"Ah, I get it, now," said Malfoy, his smirk growing. "The famous Lucy Potter is too _scared_ to fight–"

"_Mimblewimble!"_ Lucy all but screamed with blazing red cheeks. There was a loud bang as Malfoy, who had not been expecting the sudden attack, was hit full on by the rocky Tongue-Tying Curse. His mouth was shaken for a moment, but then he stood upright again. For a second, Lucy thought she saw Malfoy's lower lip tremble.

"_Flipendo!" _Malfoy cried. Blue sparks rushed from the end of his wand and headed straight for her. Lucy, knowing better than to trust what Lockhart had told her to do for blocking spells, pointed her wand and shouted, _"Locomotor Mortis!"_ seconds before Malfoy's Knockback Jinx hit her. Malfoy tried to repeat Lockhart's complex wand pattern as Lucy stumbled backward, but was unsuccessful, and his legs locked together as Lucy's Leg-Locker Curse came into effect. Not prepared for this, Malfoy fell face first on the ground. The crowd laughed.

"Nice job, Lucy!" called Ron. "Show Malfoy who's boss!"

Lucy just gave him a small smile as her spell wore off and Malfoy shakily got to his feet. Malfoy was about to shout out another spell when another voice rang out.

"What's _wrong_ with you, Draco?"

The crowd hushed as Pansy Parkinson stormed up to him, red-faced and looking extremely angry. Malfoy looked extremely annoyed.

"Get out of my way, Pansy!" he snapped.

"Why, so you can keep throwing away the duel and making yourself look like an idiot?" she demanded. "Absolutely not! You're making the rest of us Slytherin's look stupid, and since you won't give it your all," she spun around to face Lucy and brandished her wand, "then I'll have to do it myself!" Lucy went rigid with fear.

"Miss Parkinson–" Lockhart said nervously, but his words were cut short when Harry burst forth from the crowd and went to stand in front of Lucy, wand drawn and ready.

"Leave my sister alone!" he said threateningly. Pansy looked amused.

"Oh, you want some too? Fine, have it your way, then!"

"Ten points from Slytherin!" shouted Lockhart, desperate to get the situation back under control. "Another word, Miss Parkinson, and it'll be–"

But Pansy paid him no mind. She raised her wand and shouted out, _"Serpensortia!"_

The end of her wand exploded. Harry and Lucy watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them and Malfoy and Pansy, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter's," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry and Lucy standing motionless, eye-to-eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it…."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry and Lucy weren't sure what made them do it. They weren't even aware of deciding to do it. All either of them knew was that their legs were carrying them forward as though they were both on casters and that they had both shouted stupidly at the snake, "Leave him alone!" And miraculously–inexplicably–the snake slumped on the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on them. Harry and Lucy both felt the fear drain out of them. They knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how they knew it, neither of them could explain.

They looked up at Justin, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful–but certainly not angry and scared.

"What do you two think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry or Lucy could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward and waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry and Lucy in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry and Lucy didn't like it. They were also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls.

Lucy looked over at Malfoy and Pansy. Pansy was staring at her and Harry with wide eyes, and Malfoy was frozen with shock, his pale face paler than usual. Lucy stared, not understanding his reaction. Was he afraid of her? She then felt a tugging on the back of her robes.

"Come on," said Ron's voice in her and Harry's ears. "Move–come _on_–_"_

Ron steered them out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry and Lucy stared quizzically at each other. They didn't have a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged them all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room. Then Ron pushed Ron and Lucy into two armchairs and said, "You're both Parselmouth's Why didn't either of you tell us?"

"We're what?" said Harry and Lucy together.

"_Parselmouth's!"_ said Ron. "You can both talk to snakes!"

"We know," said Harry. "Well, to be honest, that's only the second time we've ever done it. We accidentally set a boa constrictor on our cousin Dudley at the zoo once."

"It's a rather long story," said Lucy, "but the short version is that it was telling us it had never seen Brazil and we sort of made the glass covering its tank disappear by accident–this was before we knew we were a witch and wizard."

"A boa constrictor told both of you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no, they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, Lucy, this is bad."

"What's so bad about it?" said Lucy, now thoroughly confused. "What's wrong with all of you? Who knows what might have happened if Harry and I hadn't told that snake not to hurt Justin–"

"Oh, that what you guys said to it?"

"What d'you mean?" said Harry. "You were there–you heard us–"

"I heard you guys speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You two could have been saying anything–no wonder Justin panicked, you guys sounded like you were both egging the snake on or something–heck, even Malfoy was scared–it was creepy, you know–"

Harry and Lucy gaped at him.

"We spoke a different language?" said Harry. "But–we didn't realize–how can we speak a language without knowing we can speak it?"

Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Lucy couldn't see what was so terrible.

"Do either of you want to tell us what was so wrong about stopping a giant snake from biting off Justin's head? What does it matter _how_ Harry and I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join Sir Patrick's Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry and Lucy's mouths fell open.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you two are his great-great-great-great-grandchildren or something–"

"But we're not," said Harry and Lucy, with a panic neither of them could explain.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you both could be."

* * *

Many hours later when everyone in their dormitories was fast asleep and the Gryffindor common room was cleared out, Harry and Lucy both sneaked back downstairs. They both sat down in armchairs beside one of the tower windows and silently watched as the snow fell outside.

"Harry," said Lucy in a frightened whisper after they had been there for a while. "Do you think we really _could_ be descendants of Salazar Slytherin?"

"I don't know," he said, turning to look at her. "If only the Dursleys had been more willing to tell us more about our Wizarding relatives. We know next to nothing about our dad's side of the family, after all…"

Lucy just nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Lucy," Harry continued. "I tried to say all of that in Parseltongue, just now. Did it sound like it?"

"No," she said. "My guess is that it only happens whenever we're face-to-face with a… a _snake…"_

She trembled with terror.

"Lucy," said Harry, trying to calm her down. "We're both in _Gryffindor._ The Sorting Hat wouldn't have put us in here if we had Slytherin blood…."

Lucy froze as she remembered what other House the Sorting Hat had wanted to put her in.

"Harry," she said slowly. "I never told you this before, but… to be honest, the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting me in Slytherin, last year!"

Harry was silent for a few moments. Then he said, "It wasn't just you, Luce. When I put it on, it was the same thing. It considered me for Slytherin, too."

Lucy was stunned.

"Then… that means…" she whispered, terrified, "that we could… we really could be Salazar Slytherin's…"

She didn't have it in her to complete that sentence.

"Tomorrow," Harry said abruptly. "We'll have Herbology tomorrow, meaning that we'll see Justin then. We will both explain to him tomorrow that we were trying to call the snake off, not egging it on. Any fool should have been able to realize that!" He said angrily.

Lucy just gave him a blank nod.

"Okay…."

* * *

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to on one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Both Harry and Lucy fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess.

"For heaven's sake, Harry, Lucy," said Hermione, exasperated as one of Ron's bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. "Go and _find_ Justin if it's that important to both of you."

So Harry and Lucy got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Justin might be.

The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, Harry and Lucy walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Resisting the urges to take a look, Harry and Lucy walked on by.

"Any idea where Justin might be, Harry?" said Lucy.

"I was thinking we ought to check the library first," he said. "Justin could possibly be using this free time to catch up on his homework."

"Oh, good idea, Harry!"

And they set off together to the library.

A group of Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harry and Lucy could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. They couldn't see whether Justin was among them. They were walking toward them when something of what they were saying met their ears, and they paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying. "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if the Potter's have marked him down as their next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to the Potter's he was Muggle-born. Justin actually _told_ them he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it _is_ one of the Potter's, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "they're both Parselmouth's! Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark witch or wizard. Have you ever heard of decent one's who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on.

"Remember what was written on the wall? _Enemies of the Heir, Beware._ The Potter's had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying the Potter's at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of Lucy while she was lying in the mud. Next thing we know–Creevey's been attacked."

"But I always got the impression that Lucy liked the Creevey boy," Hannah protested, she and the others unaware of the fact that a few feet away, Lucy was trying very hard not to say a word despite how upset she was. "From what I could tell, I thought the two of them were friends."

Ernie scoffed. "Oh, please," he said. "I'll bet you anything that that was just an act. She was trying to gain his trust so she and her brother could finish him off easily later on, which, as all of us know, they've already done."

Harry wrapped his arm over his sister's shoulder to help her stop trembling.

"They always seem so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, they're the one's who made You-Know-Who disappear. They can't be all bad, can they?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuff's bent closer, and Harry and Lucy edged nearer so that they could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how they survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, both of them were only babies when it happened. They both should have been blasted into smithereens. Only really powerful Dark witches and wizards could have survived a spell like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper and said, _"That's_ probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill them in the first place. Didn't want other Dark witches and wizards_ competing_ with him. I wonder what other powers the Potter's have been hiding?"

Harry couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves, Lucy following somewhat reluctantly. If he hadn't been so angry and she hadn't been so upset, they would have found the sight that greeted them funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of Harry and Lucy, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Harry. "Lucy and I are looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.

"What do you two want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"W-we wanted to tell him what really h-happened with that snake last night at the Dueling Club," said Lucy, trying very hard not to stutter.

Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after we spoke to it, the snake backed off?" said Harry.

"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was the two of you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."

"W-we didn't ch-chase it at him!" Lucy said, her voice now shaking from how upset she was. "That sn-snake didn't even _touch _J-Justin!"

"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case either of you are getting any ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can both trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so–"

"We don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would Lucy and I want to attack Muggle-borns?"

"I've heard you two hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.

"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said Harry. "I'd like to see you try it."

He turned on his heel, grabbed Lucy's hand, and stormed out of the library, earning himself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spellbook.

Lucy didn't even try to stop him as he blundered up the corridor. She herself was rather worked up from Ernie's remarks about them. Her eyes were becoming very moist. They barely noticed where they were going, they were so emotional. The result was that they walked into something very large and solid, which knocked them both backward onto the floor.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harry said, he and Lucy looking up.

Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor with his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.

"All righ', Harry, Lucy?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh both in class?"

"It was cancelled," said Lucy, drying her eyes as she and Harry got up. "What're you doing in here?"

Hagrid held up the limp rooster.

"Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop."

He peered more closely at Harry and Lucy from under his thick, snow-flecked eyebrows.

"Yeh sure yeh're both all righ'? Yeh both look troubled–"

Harry and Lucy couldn't bring themselves to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about them.

"It's nothing," Harry said. "We'd better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next and we've got to pick up our books."

"We'll see you later, Hagrid."

They walked off, their minds still full of what Ernie had said about them.

"_Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to the Potter's he was Muggle-born…."_

"Ignore what the Hufflepuff's are saying about us, Luce," said Harry, seeing Lucy's eyes tear up again. "They're all just scared…."

"O-okay…." She whimpered with a sniffle.

They stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. They were halfway down the passage when they both tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

They both turned to squint at what they'd fallen over and felt as though their stomach's had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight that Harry and Lucy had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

Harry slammed his hand over Lucy's mouth to prevent her from screaming as they got to their feet.

"Don't panic!" He whispered, but Lucy wasn't listening. Her emotional state added with this sudden surprise had put her into a true state of shock. She slowly backed up against the nearest wall and slid down, eyes wide, staring fearfully at Justin and Nick.

Harry was breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

"Lucy," he hissed, crossing over to her and tugging on her sleeve. "Lucy, get up! We need to go get help!"

But Lucy didn't move. She just continued to sit there, staring horrified at Justin and Nick.

"They'll blame us," she whispered. "Everyone… everyone's going to blame us…."

As Harry stood there, panicking for both Lucy and the two Petrified, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

"Why, it's the potty wee Potter's!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's the Potter's up to? Why are the Potter's lurking–"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault, when he saw Lucy's fearful, shocked expression. She hadn't even noticed him, she was so traumatized. Upside down, he followed her line of vision and spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Crash–crash–crash–door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes there was scene of such confusion that both Justin and Lucy were in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry found himself pinned up against the wall next to his sister as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

"_Caught in the act!"_ Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry and Lucy.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

"_Oh, Potter's, you rotter's, oh, what have you both done,_

_You're killing off students, you both think it's good fun_–_"_

"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry and Lucy.

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with the instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left Harry, Lucy, and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"What happened to your sister, Mr. Potter?" she asked, bending down to examine Lucy, who hadn't moved a muscle during all the confusion. Harry explained how she went into shock after they had stumbled upon Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and a jet of water poured out of her wand and onto Lucy's still form. She snapped out of her stupor.

"Wh-what just happened?" Lucy coughed. Before Harry could answer, Professor McGonagall waved her wand again and Lucy's robes were dry once more. As she got to her feet, Professor McGonagall suddenly became very stern.

"This way, Potter's," she said.

"Professor," said Harry at once, "we swear we didn't–"

"This is out of my hands, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly.

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop," she said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry and Lucy couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As they and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry and Lucy heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry and Lucy both saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

They knew now where they were being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived.


	12. The Polyjuice Potion

**Oh, I just love this chapter! I haven't had much of an opportunity to have a lot of Draco and Lucy action in the past couple of chapters, and this chapter has a lot of action between them!  
**

**As always, be sure to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve:****The Polyjuice Potion**

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Harry and Lucy to wait and left them there, alone.

Harry and Lucy looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers' offices Harry and Lucy had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting. If they hadn't been scared out of their wits that they were about to be thrown out of school, they would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around it.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat–the _Sorting Hat._

Harry and Lucy glanced at each other, hesitating. They cast wary eyes around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls.

"Surely, it couldn't hurt, could it," Harry whispered, "if we take it down and try it on again?" Lucy hesitantly shook her head.

"No… there's nothing wrong with checking to see if we _had_ been sorted into the right House…." She whispered back.

They walked quietly behind the desk. Harry lifted the hat from its shelf. He turned to Lucy.

"Would you like to ask, or should I?" he asked.

"N-no, you do it," said Lucy nervously.

Harry lowered it slowly onto his head. It was much too large and slipped down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time he'd put it on. Harry stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"

"Er, yes," Harry muttered. "Er–sorry to bother you–my sister and I wanted to ask–"

"You and your sister have been wondering whether I put both of you in the right House," said the hat smartly. "Yes, both of you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before for both of you" –Harry's heart leapt– "you both _would_ have done well in Slytherin–"

Harry's stomach plummeted. He grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off. It hung limply in his hand, grubby and faded. Harry pushed it into Lucy's surprised hands, feeling sick.

"You're wrong," he said to the still and silent hat in Lucy's hands. It didn't move. Lucy was puzzled.

"What did it tell you, Harry?" she asked curiously.

"That we would have been _great_ in Slytherin," he said sourly.

Lucy's eyes widened. She bit her lip, and then slowly put it on. She had to know for sure. She had to hear it from the Hat herself.

"Er–hello, Sorting Hat," she said awkwardly.

"Hello to you, too, Lucy Potter," said the hat's voice in her ear. "Would you mind telling your brother that what he did just now truly offended me?"

"Er–okay," Lucy said. "Harry, the Sorting Hat wants me to tell you that you just hurt its feelings."

"Oh, sorry," said Harry at once.

"Thank you," said the voice in Lucy's ear. "Now, you wish to hear for yourself that what I told your brother is true?"

"Er–yes," said Lucy.

"Very well. The words your brother spoke were the truth. I believe you both would have been _great_ Slytherins" –Lucy swallowed a gasp "–and quite frankly, I'm surprised that _you_ aren't more excited to hear this. You are even fonder of the Malfoy boy than you were the last time you put me on. I can tell."

"Thank you, Sorting Hat!" she said quickly with blazing red cheeks. She gently, but hastily took it off, and placed it neatly back onto the shelf. Harry was about to ask what it had told her, when a strange, gagging noise behind them made Harry and Lucy wheel around.

They weren't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harry and Lucy stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. It looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry and Lucy watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

"What kind of bird is that?" Harry wondered.

"I don't know," said Lucy. "But it looks really sick to me."

"Let's just hope it doesn't die while we're alone here in Dumbledore's–"

Harry's words were cut short by the bird suddenly bursting into flames.

Harry and Lucy both yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. They both looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird–we couldn't do anything–"

"We don't know what happened," Lucy cried. "It was fine one second–but it just caught fire–"

To Harry and Lucy's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

He chuckled at the stunned looks on Harry and Lucy's faces.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry, Lucy. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…"

Harry and Lucy looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.

"It is a shame both of you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly _faithful_ pets."

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harry and Lucy had both forgotten what they were there for, but it all came back to them as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry and Lucy with his penetrating, light-blue stare.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

"It wasn' Harry an' Lucy, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently, "I was talkin' ter them _seconds_ before that kid was found, they never had time, sir–"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.

"–it can't've bin them, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to–"

"Hagrid, I–"

"–yeh've got the wrong kids, sir. I _know_ Harry an' Lucy never–"

"_Hagrid!"_ said Dumbledore loudly. "I do _not_ think that Harry and Lucy attacked those people."

"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply to his side. "Right. I'll just wait outside then, Headmaster."

And he stomped out looking embarrassed.

"You don't think it was us, Professor?" Harry repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.

"No, Harry, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber again. "But I still want to talk to you both."

Harry and Lucy waited nervously while Dumbledore considered them, the tips of his long fingers together.

"I must ask you both, Harry, Lucy, whether there is anything either of you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all?"

Harry and Lucy looked at each other. They didn't know what to say. They thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" and the Polyjuice Potion simmering in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Then they thought of the disembodied voice they had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said, _"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world."_ They thought, too, about what everyone was saying about them, and their going dread that they were somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin….

"N-no, sir," said Lucy. "There isn't anything, Professor…."

* * *

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry, Lucy, and Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. But Harry and Lucy were glad that most people were leaving. They were both tired of people skirting around them in the corridors as though they were about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as they passed.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry and Lucy down the corridor, shouting, "Make way for the Heirs of Slytherin, seriously evil witch and wizard coming through…."

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

"It is _not_ a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry and Lucy are in a hurry."

"Yeah, they're off to the Chamber of Secrets for cups of tea with their fanged servant," said George, chortling.

Ginny didn't find it amusing either.

"Oh, _don't,"_ she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who would be the next victim, or when George pretended to ward Lucy off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Harry and Lucy didn't mind; it made them both feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of them being Slytherin's heirs was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

"It's because he's _bursting_ to say it's really him," said Ron knowingly, not seeing Lucy bite her lower lip. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're both getting all the credit for his dirty work."

"Not for long," said Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."

* * *

At last the term ended and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Harry and Lucy found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and enjoyed the fact that they, Hermione, and the Weasleys had the run of Gryffindor's Tower, which meant they could play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice dueling in private. Fred, George, and Ginny had chosen to stay at school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Percy, who disapproved of what he termed their childish behavior, didn't spend much time in Gryffindor common room. He had already told them pompously that _he_ was only staying over Christmas because it was his duty as a prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time.

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry and Ron, the only one's left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Hermione and Lucy, who burst in, both fully dressed, and carrying their presents.

"Wake up," Hermione said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.

"Merry Christmas, Harry, Ron," Lucy said, shaking both of them awake.

"Hermione, Lucy–you're not supposed to be in here–" said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," said Hermione, throwing him his present. "The two of us have been up for an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It's ready."

Harry sat up, suddenly wide-awake.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," said Hermione, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.

"Merry Christmas, Hedwig," said Lucy happily as she landed on her shoulder. "Are you speaking to me and Harry again?"

She nibbled her ear in an affectionate sort of way before fluttering over to Harry and giving him a kind peck on the hand. These turned out to be far better presents than the ones that she had brought them, which turned out to be from the Dursleys. They had sent Harry and Lucy each a toothpick and a note telling them to find out whether they'd be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer vacation, too.

The rest of Harry and Lucy's Christmas presents were far more satisfactory. Hagrid had sent them both large tins or treacle toffee, which Harry and Lucy decided to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given Harry a book called _Flying with the Cannons, _a book of interesting facts about his favorite Quidditch team, and Lucy a book on the all-female Quidditch the Hollyhead Harpies called _Everything About the Flyting Harpies,_ and Hermione bought them luxury eagle-feather quills. Harry and Lucy opened their last presents to find new, hand-knitted sweaters from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. They read her card with fresh surges of guilt, both of them thinking about Mr. Weasley's car (which hadn't been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow), and the bout of rule-breaking they and Ron were planning next.

* * *

No one, not even people dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn't noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. Harry didn't even care that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remarks about his and Lucy's new sweaters from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck, Malfoy would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours' time.

And Lucy had had her own special moment at Christmas dinner. For once, she didn't care about Malfoy thought of her. She was having a jolly good time, and wasn't planning on having him ruining it. She was about to turn away from the Slytherin table, when she suddenly became aware of the fact that Malfoy was staring at her. He wasn't jeering, or sending her hateful glares. He was simply staring at her. Lucy felt heat flood her cheeks. She wasn't sure what to do for a moment. Looking away would probably have been the best option, but before she could stop herself, Lucy found herself waving to him. Malfoy, as though an icy bucket of water had been dumped on his head, snapped out of his daze. They were quite far apart, so Lucy couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but she thought she saw his cheeks flush a subtle pink. At first, Lucy thought he wasn't going to look at her again, but then Malfoy looked back up at her, and he, too, waved to her, and then turned back to his dinner, as though nothing had ever happened. And Lucy, not understanding what had just happened, turned back to her own dinner, feeling very, very puzzled.

Harry and Lucy had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them and Ron out of the hall to finalize their plans for the evening.

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said Hermione matter-of-factly, as though she were sending them to the supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's, Harry, Ron, they're Malfoy's best friends, he'll tell them anything. And it would probably be good if you were to get some hairs from Pansy Parkinson, Lucy. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy can't burst in on us while we're interrogating Malfoy.

"I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry, Lucy, and Ron's stupefied faces. She held up three plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. Simple, but powerful. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy find them. You know how greedy Crabbe and Goyle are, they're bound to eat them, and it's unlikely that Pansy will be able to resist taking at least a few bites. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom cupboard."

Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other.

"Hermione, I don't think–"

"That could go seriously wrong–"

But Lucy shot them an icy glare, silencing both of them immediately. There was a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one Professor McGonagall sometimes had.

"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she said sternly. "You do _want_ to investigate Malfoy, don't you? Of course, you could both agree with me right now that Malfoy is most likely _not_ the Heir of Slytherin and we could all go join Fred, George, and Ginny back in the common room–"

"Oh, all right, all right," said Harry. "But what about you, Hermione? Whose hair are you ripping out?"

"I've already got mine," said Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket and showing them the single hair inside it. "Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she's gone home for Christmas–so I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."

When Hermione had bustled off to check on the Polyjuice Potion again, Ron turned to Harry and Lucy with a doom-laden expression.

"Have either of you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"

* * *

But to Harry, Lucy, and Ron's utter amazement, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, the boys shoveling down fourth helpings of trifle while Pansy filled her pockets with abandoned party favors. Harry had perched the chocolate cakes on the end of one the banisters. When they spotted Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy coming out of the Great Hall, Harry, Lucy, and Ron hid quickly behind a suit of armor next to the front door.

"How thick can you get?" Ron whispered ecstatically as Pansy tugged on Crabbe and Goyle's sleeves and pointed out the cakes. They each grabbed one. Grinning stupidly, Crabbe and Goyle stuffed the cakes whole into their mouths, whereas Pansy took much smaller, daintier bites. For a moment, the three of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change in expression, they all keeled over backward on the floor.

By far the hardest part was hiding them in the closet across the hall. Once they were safely stowed away among the buckets and mops, Harry yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Goyle's forehead, Lucy tugged out a few strands of Pansy's chin-length brown hair, and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe's hairs. They also stole their shoes because Harry and Ron's were by far too small for Crabbe- and Goyle-sized feet, and Pansy's feet looked as though she was size or two bigger than Lucy. Then, still stunned at what they had just done, they sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the stall in which Hermione was stirring the cauldron. Pulling their robes up over their faces, Harry, Lucy, and Ron knocked softly on the door.

"Hermione?"

They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shiny-faced and looking anxious. Behind her they heard the _gloop gloop_ of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Four glass tumblers stood ready on the toilet seat.

"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

They showed her the hairs.

"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione said, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle, Harry, Ron, and Pansy's a little taller than you, Lucy, so you'll need a slightly longer one."

The four of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously rereading the splotched page of _Moste Potente Potions._ "It looks like the book says it should… once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves."

"Now what?" Ron whispered.

"We separate it into four glasses and add the hairs."

Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of the bottle and into the first glass.

The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and a frothed loudly. A second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow.

"Ugh–essence of Millicent Bulstrode," said Ron, eyeing it with loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."

"Add yours, then," said Hermione.

Harry dropped Goyle's hair into the second glass, Ron put Crabbe's into the third one, and Lucy dropped Pansy's into the last glass. All three potions hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the khaki color of a booger, Crabbe's a dark, murky brown, and Pansy's became a sickly vomit green.

"Hang on," said Harry as Lucy, Ron, and Hermione reached for their glasses. "We'd better not all drink them in here…. Once Ron and I turn into Crabbe and Goyle, we won't fit. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie."

"Good thinking," said Ron, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate stalls."

Careful not to spill drops of their Polyjuice Potion, Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped into other stalls, leaving Lucy alone in the original first stall.

"Are you guys ready?" she called.

"Ready," came Harry, Ron, and Hermione's voices.

"One–two–three–"

Pinching her nose, Lucy drank the potion down in two gulps. It tasted like rotting fish and she almost spat it out.

Immediately, her insides started writhing as though she'd just swallowed live snakes–doubled up, she wondered whether she was going to be sick–then a burning sensation spread rapidly from her stomach to the very ends of her fingers and toes–next, bringing her gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over her body bubbled like hot wax–and before her eyes, her hands lengthened, the fingers grew, the nails became longer, the knuckles were bulging like bolts–her shoulders slimmed painfully and a tingling sensation in her legs told her that she was growing a few inches–her robes became tight around her armpits and chest and was now far too short–and her feet hurt terribly in shoes two sizes too small–

As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Lucy lad facedown on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. With difficulty, she kicked off her shoes and stood up. So this was what it felt like, being Pansy Parkinson. Her hands trembling, she pulled off her old robes, which were hanging four inches above her ankles, pulled on the spare ones, and laced up Pansy's abnormally-large-for-a-girls' shoes. She reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes and met only the short growth of wiry bangs, low on her forehead. She called, "Are you guys okay?" Pansy's high-pitched squeal of a voice issued from her mouth.

"Yeah," came the low rasp of Goyle from her left.

"I'm good," said the deep grunt of Crabbe to her right.

Lucy unlocked her door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Pansy's pug-like face stared back at her. Lucy touched her cheek. So did Pansy.

Harry and Ron's doors opened. They stared at one another. Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, and Harry–after removing his glasses–was Goyle in every way.

"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. _"Unbelievable."_

"We'd better get going," said Harry, loosening the watch that was cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find someone to follow…"

Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle _thinking."_ He banged on Hermione's door. "C'mon, we need to go–"

A high-pitched voice answered him.

"I–I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me."

"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, no one's going to know it's you–"

"No–really–I don't think I'll come. You three hurry up, you're wasting time–"

Harry looked at Ron and Lucy, bewildered.

"_That_ looks more like Goyle," said Ron. "That's how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."

"Hermione, are you okay?" said Lucy through the door.

"Fine–I'm fine–go on–"

Harry looked down at his watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had already passed.

"We'll meet you back here," Harry said.

Lucy opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear before motioning to Harry and Ron that it was safe, and they set off.

"Stand straighter," Harry muttered to Lucy.

"What?"

"Pansy always walks like she's very important…."

"How's that?"

"Yeah, that's better…."

They went down the marble staircase. All they needed now was a Slytherin that they could follow to the Slytherin common room, but there was nobody around.

"Any ideas?" Lucy muttered.

"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," said Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the entrance.

"Excuse me," said Ron, hurrying up to her. "We've forgotten the way to our common room."

"I beg your pardon?" said the girl stiffly. _"Our _common room?_ I'm _a Ravenclaw."

She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy's huge feet hit the floor, feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as they had hoped.

The labyrinthine passages were deserted. They walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking the time to see how much longer they had. After a quarter of an hour, just when they were getting desperate, they heard a sudden movement ahead.

"Ha!" said Ron excitedly. "There's one of them now!"

The figure was emerging from a side room. As they hurried nearer, however, their hearts sank. It wasn't a Slytherin, it was Percy.

"What're you doing down here?" said Ron in surprise.

Percy looked affronted.

"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"

"Wh–oh, yeah," said Ron.

"Well, get off to your dormitories," said Percy sternly. "It's not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days."

"_You_ are," Ron pointed out.

"I," said Percy, drawing himself up, "am a prefect. Nothing's about to attack _me."_

A voice suddenly echoed behind Harry, Lucy, and Ron. Draco Malfoy was strolling towards them, and for the first time in his life, Harry was please to see him. Lucy–or rather, Pansy–felt herself go red and glanced down at her abnormally large shoes.

"There you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Were you dragging Crabbe and Goyle away from the Great Hall again, Pansy? To stop them from pigging out? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."

Malfoy glanced witheringly at Percy.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"

Malfoy sneered and motioned for Harry, Lucy, and Ron to follow him. Harry and Lucy both almost said something apologetic to Percy, but they caught themselves just in time. They and Ron hurried after Malfoy, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley–"

"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.

"Whatever," said Malfoy. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

He gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged excited looks. Lucy bit her lower lip.

Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stonewall.

"What's the new password again?" he said to Lucy.

"Er–" said Lucy, trying to hide her flaming cheeks.

"Oh, yeah–_pure-blood!"_ said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, and Harry, Lucy, and Ron followed him.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stonewalls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.

"Wait here," said Malfoy to Harry, Lucy, and Ron, motioning them to a set of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it–my father's just sent it to me–"

Wondering what Malfoy was going to show them, Harry, Lucy, and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home.

Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose.

"That'll give you a laugh," he said.

Harry and Lucy saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry. Lucy looked over his shoulder to see it, too.

It had been clipped out of the _Daily Prophet,_ and it said,

**INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Ar-

tifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for be-

witching a Muggle Car.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the

enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today

for Mr. Weasley's resignation.

"Weasley has brought the Ministry into dis-

pute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly

unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Mug-

gle Protection Act should be scrapped immedi-

ately."

Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, al-

though his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd

set the family ghoul on them.

"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you two think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Harry bleakly.

"Quite a riot," said Lucy with a sheepish smile.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Malfoy scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."

Ron's–or rather, Crabbe's–face was contorted with fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the _Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent Headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin. "Potter's, can I have your pictures, Potter's? Can I have your autographs? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter's?"

He dropped his hands and looked at Lucy, who was staring at her lap to hide her sad face.

"What's the _matter _with you, Pansy?"

"O-oh, nothing," Lucy stuttered, her head snapping back up to reveal bright pink cheeks. "J-just something in m-my eye…"

"You look a little red, Pansy," Malfoy commented, staring quizzically at her. "Are you getting sick?"

Lucy swallowed a squeal when Malfoy rested his palm against her forehead.

"I'm f-fine," Lucy insisted, pushing his hand away. "I'm just a l-little hot, is all."

Far too late, she forced herself to smile, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Pansy was always a bit slow.

"Saint Potter's, the Mudbloods' friends," said Malfoy slowly, continuing on from where he had left off. "They are other one's with no proper witch or wizard feeling, or else they wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. Especially that Lucy Potter. Far as I know, she was a lot fonder of that Creevey Mudblood than her Scarhead brother was, and everyone knows that Mudblood Granger is her best friend. And people think _she_ or her stupid _brother_ are Slytherin's heirs!"

Harry, Lucy, and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him–but then–

"I _wish _I knew who it _is,"_ said Malfoy petulantly. "As much as I hate to say it, whoever it is needs to be stopped. You all know as well as I do that no Slytherin can even go to the bathroom anymore without being suspected of going off to Petrify another Mudblood."

Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice, and Harry, thinking fast, said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all…."

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me _anything_ about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it. But I know one thing–last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood_ died._ So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them is killed this time…. I hope it's Granger," he said with relish.

Ron was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Malfoy, Harry and Lucy both shot him warning looks. Then Lucy said, "Do you know who it was exactly that was killed?"

"And what about the person who opened the Chamber last time," said Harry. "D'you know if they got caught?"

"Oh, no, Father didn't tell me the name of the Mudblood that got killed," said Malfoy. "But he did say that whoever it was that opened the Chamber last time was expelled. They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" said Harry and Lucy, puzzled.

"Azkaban–_the witch and wizard prison, _Goyle, Pansy," said Malfoy, looking at them in disbelief. "Honestly, if you two were any slower, you'd both be going backward."

He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week."

Harry and Lucy tried to force Goyle and Pansy's faces into looks of concern.

"Yeah…" said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some _very_ valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing room floor–"

"Ho!" said Ron.

Malfoy looked at him. So did Harry and Lucy. Ron blushed. Even his hair was turning red. His nose was also lengthening–their hour was up, Ron was turning back into himself, and from the looks of horror he was suddenly giving Harry and Lucy, they must be, too.

All three of them jumped to their feet.

"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stonewall, and dashed up the passage, hoping against hope that Malfoy hadn't noticed anything. Lucy could feel her feet slipping around in Pansy's huge shoes and had to hoist up her robes as she shrank; they crashed up the steps into the dark entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the closet where they'd locked Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. Leaving their shoes outside the locked door, they sprinted in their socks up the marble staircase toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron panted, closing the bathroom door behind them. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys' drawing room."

Harry and Lucy both checked their faces in the cracked mirror. They were back to normal. Harry put his glasses back on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.

"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you–"

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron looked at each other.

"What's the matter?" said Lucy. "You must be back to normal self by now, we are–"

But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. Lucy had never seen her looking so happy.

"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said. "It's _awful_–_"_

They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.

"What's up?" said Ron uncertainly. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"

Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.

Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.

"It was c-cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformation!"

"Uh-oh," said Ron.

"You'll be teased something _dreadful,"_ said Myrtle happily.

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing."

"Yes," Lucy agreed. "Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions…."

It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw. "Wait till everyone finds out you've got a _tail!"_


	13. The Very Secret Diary

**I know I am a few days later than I usually am with this update, but understand that I had an oral surgery on Thursday to remove my upper wisdom teeth, and wasn't feeling well enough to write until now. And speaking of updates, I should tell all of you that school starts up for me again on this coming Thursday, so updates will be slowing down again, unfortunately. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to write up the next chapter before Thursday and have it posted on here as an end-of-summer-vacation present, but if I don't consider this chapter as that!  
**

**As always, please review!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen:****The Very Secret Diary**

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumors about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing, trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, they brought her each day's homework.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's beside table one evening.

"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.

"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.

"And I was so _sure_ it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth.

"And I was the only one so _sure_ that it wasn't!" Lucy snapped, for about the hundredth and one time. Hermione's brow rose at how quickly she had said it.

"What's that?" said Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:

"_To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_'s Most-Charming-Smile Award."_

Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.

"You sleep with this under your _pillow?"_

But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.

"Is Lockhart the smartiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Harry and Lucy as they left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given them so much homework, Lucy thought she was likely to be in the sixth year before she finished it. Especially without Hermione's help. Out of all their subjects, Potions was one of the most difficult one's for her. Ron, unaware of the sour look on her face, was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione who many rat tails he was supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.

"That sounded like Filch," Lucy whispered as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.

"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.

"Let's hope that's not the case," Harry muttered.

They stood still, their heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

"–_even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore_–_"_

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and they heard a distant door slam.

They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

"_Now_ what's up with her?" said Ron.

"Only one way to find out," said Lucy, and holding their robes over their ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it as always, and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that left both the walls and the floor soaking wet.

"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Lucy waded across to her stall and said, "Why would any of throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…."

"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Ron, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"

He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle because _she_ can't feel it! Ten points if you can get if through her stomach! Fifty points if goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I _don't_ think!"

"Who threw it at you, anyway?" said Harry.

"_I_ don't know…. I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out…."

Harry, Lucy, and Ron looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Lucy stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold her back.

"What?'' said Lucy.

"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."

"_Dangerous?"_ said Harry, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"

"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated–Dad's told me–there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read _Sonnets of a Sorcerer_ spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could _never stop reading!_ You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And–"

"All right, I've got the point," said Harry.

The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.

"Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," Lucy said, and she ducked around Ron and picked it up off the floor.

Harry and Lucy saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told them it was fifty years old. Lucy opened it eagerly. On the first page they could just make out the name "T. M. Riddle" in smudged ink.

"Hang on," said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Lucy's shoulder. "I know that name…. T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."

"How on earth d'you know that?" said Harry in amazement.

"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If either of you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you two would remember it, too."

Lucy peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the faintest trace of writing on any of them, not even _Auntie Mabel's birthday_ or_ dentist, half-past three._

"He never wrote in it," she said, disappointed.

"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" said Ron curiously.

Lucy turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

"He must've been Muggle-born," said Harry thoughtfully. "To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road…."

"Well, it's not much use to us," said Ron. He dropped his voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose, Lucy."

Harry, however, shook his head at Lucy. Lucy nodded, and pocketed it.

* * *

Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and fur-free, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Lucy showed her T. M. Riddle's diary and told her the story of how they had found it.

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't just chuck it, Lucy."

"I want to know why someone _did_ try to chuck it," said Lucy.

"And I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts," Harry added.

"Could've been anything," said Ron. "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor…."

Harry and Lucy could tell from the arrested look on Hermione's face that she was thinking what they were thinking.

"What?" said Ron, looking from one to the other.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" Harry said. "That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah…" said Ron slowly.

"And _this diary_ is also fifty years old," said Lucy, tapping it excitedly.

"So?"

"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled _fifty years ago._ We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school _fifty years ago._ Well, what if Riddle got his special award for _catching the Heir of Slytherin?_ His diary would probably tell us everything–where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it–the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want something like that lying around, would they?"

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. _There's nothing written in his diary."_

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

"It might have invisible ink!" she whispered.

She tapped the diary three times and said, _"Aparecium!"_

Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag, and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.

She rubbed hard on _January first. _Nothing happened.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

* * *

Harry and Lucy couldn't explain, even to themselves, why they didn't just throw Riddle's diary away. The fact was that even thought they both _knew_ the diary was blank, they kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story they wanted to finish. And while Harry and Lucy were sure that neither of them had ever heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to both of them, almost as though Riddle was a friend that they'd had when they were both very small, and had half-forgotten. But this was absurd. They'd never had friends before Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure of that.

Nevertheless, Harry and Lucy were determined to find out more about Riddle, so next day at break, they headed for the trophy room to examine Riddle's special award, accompanied by an interested Hermione and a thoroughly unconvinced Ron who told them he'd seen enough of the trophy room to last him a lifetime.

Riddle's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. It didn't carry any details of why it had been given to him ("Good thing, too, or it'd be even bigger and I'd still be polishing it," said Ron). However, they did find Riddle's name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.

"He sounds like Percy," said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Prefect, Head Boy… probably top of every class–"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Hermione in a slightly hurt voice.

* * *

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," Harry and Lucy heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."

Maybe the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, thought the twins. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years….

Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Harry and Lucy were the guilty ones, that they had "given themselves away" at the Dueling Club. Peeves wasn't helping matters; he kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh, Potter's, you rotter's…" now with a dance routine to match.

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Harry and Lucy overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration.

"I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him.

"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say anymore just now, but I think I know just the thing…."

He tapped his nose again and strode off.

Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Harry and Lucy hadn't had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before, and they hurried down to the Great Hall, slightly late. They both thought, for a moment, that they'd walked through the wrong doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lucid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Harry and Lucy went over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.

"What's going on?" Harry asked them, he and Lucy sitting down and wiping confetti off their bacon.

"Yeah, why's the Great Hall all pink?" said Lucy curiously.

Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lucid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where they sat, Harry and Lucy could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all–and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be running around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.

All day long, the dwarves kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarves caught up with Harry and Lucy.

"Oi, you two! 'Arry and 'Ucy Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry and Lucy while carrying a palm-sized wrapped box along with its harp.

Hot all over the thought of being given a valentine in front of a line of first years, which happened to include Ginny Weasley, Harry seized his sister's hand and tried to escape, not even thinking about the fact that she had a valentine to receive from the dwarf, too. The dwarf, however, cut their way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached them before Harry had dragged Lucy two paces.

"I've got a present to deliver to 'Ucy Potter," he paused to hand Lucy the little gift, "and a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person." He twanged his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"_Not here,"_ Harry hissed, grabbing Lucy's hand and trying to escape.

"Stay_ still!"_ grunted the dwarf, lunging to grab him and pull him back, but missed and grabbed hold of Lucy's bag by mistake.

"Let _me_ go! It's _him _you want!" Lucy snarled, trying to tug away.

With a loud ripping noise, her bag split in two. Her books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and her ink bottle smashed over everything.

Harry scrambled around, trying to help Lucy pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a hold up in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. He was accompanied by Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. Harry and Lucy started stuffing everything feverishly into Lucy's ripped bag. Harry was desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear his musical valentine, and Lucy was frantic to keep her own valentine's gift away from his eyes.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Losing their heads, Harry and Lucy both tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized Harry around the knees and brought him crashing on top of Lucy, who fell face-first to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles as Lucy struggled to no avail to crawl out from under him. "Here is your singing valentine:

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."_

Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot. Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, he got up, his feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as Lucy started looking frantically across the floor to find her gift, which had flown out of her hands when she'd been knocked to the ground. Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, showing some of the younger students away. _"And _you, Parkinson–"

Lucy, glancing over, saw Pansy stoop and snatch up two things. Leering, she showed them to Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy, who suddenly became rather stiff, and Lucy realized that she'd got not only her present, but also Riddle's diary.

"Give those back," said Lucy quietly, her cheeks burning bright red.

"Wonder what Miss Potter's written in this?" said Pansy, who obviously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought she had Lucy's own diary. A hush fell over the on lookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Lucy, looking terrified.

"Hand it over, Parkinson," said Percy sternly.

"When I've had a look," said Pansy, and before Percy could say another word, she flicked it open. The smug look on her face disappeared as she flipped through the empty pages.

"How boring. It's all empty," she sneered, throwing the book back to Lucy, who hastily shoved it into her bag before holding out her hand for her gift.

"That is mine, too," she said timidly, staring at her feet so she could hide how embarrassed she was.

Pansy, however, ignored her, and examined her wrapped present.

"Oh, do you have an admirer, Potter!" she said coldly. "Whoever it was that sent you this thing must be really blind and stupid, if they really wanted to give something like this to someone as ugly as _you!"_

Lucy felt her eyes water as Pansy's heartless words made the onlookers laugh. Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter, but Malfoy's laugh was forced. He was still rigid, and seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Lucy's embarrassed face. Pansy brought her fingers to the neatly tied ribbon on the gift.

"Now, how about we all see what's in here…."

Percy said, "As a school prefect–" but Lucy had finally lost her grip on her emotions. She lunged forward, and punched Pansy in the nose. She snatched back her thankfully unopened present as Pansy went tumbling to the floor.

"Lucy!" said Percy loudly. "No fighting in the corridors. I'll have to report–"

Percy was cut off by Lucy shoving him out of her way as she fled from the scene, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ran. And she ran. She didn't stop running until she was outside the Charms classroom.

She stopped crying at once and attempted to dry her eyes. She took a deep breath, and was about to walk inside when Professor Flitwick suddenly came rushing out and mumbling under his breath.

"–don't know _what _he was thinking, having those dwarves run up and surprise students both during and outside of class. This is the third–oh, Miss Potter!"

"H-hello, Professor Fl-Flitwick," Lucy stuttered as she tried to suppress a sniffle. "I-I'm very sorry for b-being late, but–"

"–you were embarrassed in front of everyone by a dwarf giving you your valentine?" he finished, seeing the gift in her hands. She nodded. "You're not the first," he told her, "this is actually the fifth time today that this has happened."

Lucy gave him a bleak smile before entering the classroom. She sat down in her seat and, for the first time, took a good look at her gift. There was no card, or even a name to tell her whom it was from. It was just a little wrapped-up box. With trembling fingers, she unwrapped the present. Inside was a tiny, silver ring, with a little red stone embedded within it. Lucy felt her cheeks brighten. She was quite flattered. She slipped it on as Harry and Ron came running into the classroom.

"Are you okay, Luce?" Harry whispered as he and Ron took their seats next to her. She nodded.

"I'll be okay," she whispered back as she shuffled through her bag to find her textbook. "I'm just a little embarr–hm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Harry, do you remember that my ink bottle smashed all over the rest of my textbooks?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, look at Riddle's diary…."

Harry watched as she took out the diary and her other textbooks. All of Lucy's other books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it.

"Why is it all clean?" Harry wondered.

"I don't know. There's not a single drop on it…." Said Lucy.

"Ron, look at–"

"Not now, Harry!" said Ron with gritted teeth.

Ron was having trouble with his wand again; large purple bubbles were blossoming out of the end, and he wasn't much interested in anything else.

* * *

Harry and Lucy waited until the common room cleared out and everyone in their dormitories was asleep before meeting back downstairs to closely examine Riddle's diary again.

Harry and Lucy sat at a table near the fire and flicked through the blank pages, not one of which had a trace of scarlet ink on it.

"I'm still puzzled by all this," said Harry.

"I don't know if this will work, but I have an idea," said Lucy. "I'll be right back."

She tiptoed back upstairs to the girls' dormitory. She returned a moment later, holding a new bottle of ink, and one of her quills.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Just watch."

She dipped her quill into the ink bottle, and dropped a blot onto the first page.

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. The twins stared in amazement.

"Write something!" Harry urged. "Try writing something!"

"Sure, okay."

Lucy loaded up her quill a second time and wrote, "My name is Lucy Potter, and with me is my twin brother, Harry Potter."

The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.

"_Hello, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did both of you come by my diary?"_

These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had taken the quill from Lucy, and started to scribble back.

"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."

They waited eagerly for Riddle's reply.

"_Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."_

"What do you mean?" Harry scrawled, blotting the page in his excitement.

"_I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

Lucy took back the quill.

"That is where Harry and I are now," Lucy wrote quickly. "We're at Hogwarts, and terrible stuff's been going on. Stuff with the Chamber of Secrets. You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Chamber of Secrets, would you?"

Their hearts were hammering. Riddle's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew.

"_Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."_

Harry nearly upset the ink bottle in his hurry to get the quill back from Lucy to write back.

"It's happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who's behind them. Who was it last time?"

"_I can show both of you, if you like,"_ came Riddle's reply. _"You two don't have to take my word for it. I can take both of you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."_

Harry and Lucy hesitated, the quill suspended over the diary, as they stared at each other. What did Riddle mean? How could they be taken inside somebody else's memories? They both glanced nervously at the staircases leading back to their dormitories, which were still shadowed in the darkness. When they looked back at the diary, they saw fresh words forming.

"_Let me show both of you."_

Harry and Lucy paused for a fraction of a second.

"Should we, Harry…?"

"…Let's do it."

"Okay, then."

Lucy took the quill and wrote two letters.

"OK."

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth's handing open, Harry and Lucy saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. Their hands trembling slightly, they raised the book close to their faces to see through the little window, and before either of them knew what was happening, they were both tilting forward; the window was widening, they both instinctively grabbed hands as they felt their bodies leave their chairs, and they were pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

They felt their feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around them came suddenly into focus.

They both knew immediately where they were. The circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office–but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair was reading a letter by candlelight. Harry and Lucy had never seen this man before.

"We're sorry," said Harry shakily. "We didn't mean to butt in–"

But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Lucy stepped closer to his desk and stammered, "S-sorry–we'll just go, sir."

Still the wizard ignored them. He didn't seem even to have heard either of them. Thinking that the wizard might be deaf, Harry raised his voice.

"Sorry we disturbed you, we'll go now," he half-shouted.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Harry and Lucy without glancing at them, and went to draw the curtains at his window.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to his desk, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

Harry and Lucy looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix–no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was headmaster, not Dumbledore, and they, Harry and Lucy, were little more than phantoms, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than Harry and Lucy, but he, too, had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the headmaster.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly. "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that–to that–"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me–Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…."

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and Harry and Lucy's hearts leapt, and they both moved closer, scared of missing anything.

"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy… the death of that poor little girl…. You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no near locating the–er–source of all this unpleasantness…."

Riddle's eyes widened.

"So–if the person was caught–if it all stopped–"

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.

But Lucy was sure it was the same sort of "no" that she herself had given Dumbledore.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Tom…."

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry and Lucy followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did the twins, watching him. They could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Harry and Lucy gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

Harry and Lucy gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-years-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare Harry and Lucy both knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…"

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Harry and Lucy in hot pursuit.

But to Harry and Lucy's disappointment, Riddle led them not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel, but to the very dungeon in which Harry and Lucy had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost close, Harry and Lucy could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to Harry and Lucy that they were there for at least an hour. All either of them could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Harry and Lucy had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing they could return to the present, they heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. They heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where they and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry and Lucy tiptoeing behind him, both of them forgetting that they couldn't be heard.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his hand inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry and Lucy heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon… gotta get yeh outta here…. C'mon now… in the box…"

There was something familiar about that voice….

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Harry and Lucy stepped out behind him. They could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.

They boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"

Riddle stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"What d'yeh–"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and–"

"It never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry and Lucy could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…."

"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn't! He never!"

"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harry and Lucy let out long, piercing screams unheard by anyone.

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs, a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers–Riddle raised his wand again, but it was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOOO!"

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry and Lucy felt themselves falling and, with a crash, they both landed slumped over the table in the Gryffindor common room, Riddle's diary lying open in front of them.

Before either of them had time to regain their breath, Ron came down the stairs that led to the boys' dormitories.

"There you are, Harry. What are you and Lucy still doing up?"

Harry and Lucy both sat up. They were sweating and shaking.

"What's up?" said Ron, looking at them in concern.

"It was Hagrid, Ron!" said Lucy. Ron looked puzzled.

"Ron," said Harry. "Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."


	14. Cornelius Fudge

**As I promised, here is chapter fourteen. Like I said before, this will probably be the last update for a while due to school starting tomorrow and I won't have as much time to write.  
**

**Enjoy this chapter for now until I can be able to update again, and as always, be sure to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen:****Cornelius Fudge**

Harry, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. During their first year at Hogwarts he had tried to raise a dragon in his wooden house, and it would be a long time before they forgot the giant, three-headed dog he'd christened "Fluffy." And if, as a boy, Hagrid had heard that a monster was hiding somewhere in the castle, Harry and Lucy were sure he'd have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He'd probably thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs; Harry and Lucy could just imagine the thirteen-year-old Hagrid trying to fit a leash and collar on it. But they were equally certain that Hagrid would never have meant to kill anyone.

Harry and Lucy half wished they hadn't found out how to work Riddle's diary. Again and again, Ron and Hermione made them both recount what they'd seen, until they were heartily sick of telling them and sick of the long, circular conversations that followed.

"Riddle _might_ have got the wrong person," said Hermione. "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked dully.

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably. "And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

Ron tried a different tactic.

"Riddle _does_ sound like Percy–who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?"

"Ron, the monster _killed_ someone," said Lucy. "What would any of us have done?"

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here…."

"You two met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Harry, Lucy?"

"Yes, he was buying Flesh-Eating Slug Repellant," said Lucy quickly.

The four of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.

"Do you think we should go and _ask_ Hagrid about it?"

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?"

In the end, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves had finally got bored of his "Oh, Potter's, you rotter's," song. Ernie Macmillan asked Lucy quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and in March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told Harry and Lucy. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."

* * *

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously.

"It could affect our whole future," she told Harry, Lucy, and Ron as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

"I just want to give up Potions," said Harry.

"Can we? That's not a bad idea," said Lucy.

"No, we can't," said Ron gloomily. "We keep all our old subjects, or I'd've ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But that's very important!" said Hermione, shocked.

"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," said Ron. "I haven't learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose."

Neville Longbottom had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult than Study of Ancient Runes. Dean Thomas, who, like Harry and Lucy, had grown up with Muggles, ended up closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the subjects it landed on. Hermione took nobody's advice but signed up for everything.

Harry and Lucy smiled grimly to each other when they thought of what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would say if they tried to discuss their careers in witchcraft and wizardry with them. Not that they didn't get any guidance: Percy Weasley was eager to share his experience.

"Depends on where both of you want to _go,_ Harry, Lucy," he said. "It's never too early to think about the future, so I'd recommend Divination. People say Muggle Studies is a soft option, but I personally think witches and wizards should have a thorough understand of the non-magical community, particularly if they're thinking of working in close contact with them–look at my father, he has to deal with Muggle business all the time. My brother Charlie was always more of an outdoor type, so he went for Care of Magical Creatures. Play to your strengths, Harry, Lucy."

But the only thing Harry and Lucy felt that they were really good at was Quidditch. In the end, Harry chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was lousy at them, at least he'd have someone friendly to help him. Lucy chose the same subjects, but added Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy onto her schedule as well, thinking both of the subjects sounded interesting and wanting to have more classes with Hermione.

* * *

Gryffindor's next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff. Wood was insisting on team practices every night after dinner, so that Harry and Lucy barely had time for anything but Quidditch and homework. However, the training sessions were getting better, or at least drier, and the evening before Saturday's match Lucy went up to her dormitory to drop off her broomstick feeling Gryffindor's chances for the Quidditch Cup had never been better.

But her cheerful mood didn't last long. At the top of the stairs to the dormitories, she met Lavender Brown, who was looking frantic.

"Lucy–I don't know who did it–I just found–"

Watching Lucy fearfully, Lavender pushed open the door.

The contents of Lucy's trunk had been thrown everywhere. Her cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off her four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of her bedside cabinet, the contents strewn over the mattress.

Lucy walked over to the bed, openmouthed, treading on a few loose pages of _Travels with Trolls._ As she and Lavender pulled the blankets back onto her bed, Hermione and Parvati came in. Parvati shrieked loudly.

"What on earth happened, Lucy?"

"I don't know," said Lucy. But Hermione was examining Lucy's robes. All the pockets were hanging out.

"Someone's been looking for something," said Hermione. "Is there anything missing?"

Lucy started to pick up all her things and throw them into her trunk. It was only as she threw the last of the Lockhart books back into it that she realized what wasn't there.

"Riddle's diary's gone," she said in an undertone to Hermione.

"_What?"_

Lucy nodded toward the dormitory door and Hermione followed her out. They hurried down to the Gryffindor common room, which was half-empty, and joined Harry, who had already dropped off his broomstick, and Ron.

They were aghast at the news.

"But–only a Gryffindor could have stolen it…" said Harry. "I mean, nobody else knows our password–"

"I know, and that's what scares me the most," said Lucy.

* * *

They woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs. "Harry, Lucy, buck up there, you both need a decent breakfast."

Harry and Lucy had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, both of them wondering if the new owner of Riddle's diary was right in front of their eyes. Hermione had been urging Lucy to report the robbery, but Harry had convinced Lucy not to do that. She'd have to tell a teacher all about the diary, and how many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? He didn't want Lucy or himself to be the one's who brought it all up again.

As they left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect their Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harry and Lucy's growing list. They had just started going up the marble staircase when they heard it yet again–

"_Kill this time… let me rip… tear…"_

Harry shouted aloud, Lucy shrieked, and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from them in alarm.

"The voice!" said Harry, he and Lucy looking over their shoulders. "We just heard it again!"

"It's going to attack again!" said Lucy urgently. "Didn't either of you hear it?"

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harry, Lucy–I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

"Hermione, wait!" Lucy called, but she was already gone.

"_What _does she understand?" said Harry distractedly, still looking around, tryin to tell where the voice had come from.

"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.

"But why does she have to go the library?"

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library."

Harry and Lucy stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind them, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.

"Maybe we ought to go after her," said Lucy. "I mean, the match is going to start soon."

"Exactly," said Ron. "Which is why you and Harry can't go after her. You both need to get moving. It's nearly eleven."

"But–"

"She'll be okay, Luce," Harry insisted. "Come on, we need to get our brooms."

Reluctantly, Lucy followed Harry up to Gryffindor Tower, collected her Nimbus Two Thousand, and joined Harry into the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but her and Harry's minds were still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and as they pulled on their scarlet robes in the locker room, their only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.

The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goalposts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.

Harry and Lucy were just mounting their brooms when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

Harry and Lucy's hearts dropped like stones.

"This match has been canceled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.

"But, Professor!" he shouted. "We've got to play–the Cup–_Gryffindor_–_"_

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone.

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

The she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry and Lucy over to her.

"Potter's, I think you'd both better come with me…."

Wondering how she could possibly suspect them this time, Harry and Lucy saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry and Lucy's surprise, Professor McGonagall didn't object.

"Yes, perhaps you'd better come, too, Weasley…."

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being canceled; others looked worried. Harry, Lucy, and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren't taken to anybody's office this time.

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. "There has been another attack… another _double _attack."

Lucy's insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open as she, Harry, and Ron entered.

Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth year girl with long, curly hair. Harry and Lucy recognized her as the Ravenclaw they'd accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed next to her was–

"_Hermione!"_ Ron groaned.

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. Lucy burst into heartfelt sobs.

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose any of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…."

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron shook their heads, all of them staring at Hermione.

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case."

* * *

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff," said the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. "Haven't _any_ of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it _obvious _all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The_ Heir_ of Slytherin, the _monster _of Slytherin–why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn't seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.

"Percy's in shock," George told Harry and Lucy quietly. "That Ravenclaw girl–Penelope Clearwater–she's a prefect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a _prefect."_

But Harry and Lucy were only half-listening. They didn't seem to be able to get rid of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone. And if the culprit wasn't caught soon, they were looking at a lifetime back with the Dursleys. Tom Riddle had turned Hagrid in because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed. Harry and Lucy now knew exactly how he had felt.

"What're we going to do?" said Ron quietly in Harry and Lucy's ears. "D'you think they suspect Hagrid?"

"We have to go and talk to him," said Lucy. "I don't want to believe it's him, but if he set the monster loose last time, he'll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that's a start."

"But McGonagall said we've got to stay in our tower unless we're in class–"

"I think," said Harry, more quietly still, "it's time to get our dad's old Cloak out again, Lucy."

* * *

Harry and Lucy had inherited just one thing from their father: a long and silver Invisibility Cloak. It was their only chance of sneaking out of the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. They went to bed at the usual time, waited until Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati had stopped discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally fallen asleep, then got up, dressed again, met up downstairs in the common room, and threw the Cloak over themselves.

The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn't enjoyable. Harry and Lucy, who had wandered the caste at night several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. Teachers, prefects, and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any unusual activity. Their Invisibility Cloak didn't stop them making any noise, and there was a particularly tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only yards from the spot where Snape stood standing guard. Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. It was with relief that they reached the oak front doors and eased them open.

It was a clear, starry night. They hurried toward the lit windows of Hagrid's house and pulled off the Cloak only when they were right outside his front door.

Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found themselves face-to-face with him aiming a crossbow at them. Fang the boarhound barked loudly behind him.

"Oh," he said, lowering the weapon and staring at them. "What're you three doin' here?"

"W-what's that for?" said Lucy, nervously pointing at the crossbow as they stepped inside.

"Nothin'–nothin'–" Hagrid muttered. "I've bin expectin'–doesn't matter–Sit down–I'll make tea–"

He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly extinguished the fire, spilling water from the kettle on it, and then smashed the teapot with a nervous jerk of his massive hand.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" said Harry. "Did you hear about Hermione?"

"Oh, I heard all righ'," said Hagrid, a slight break in his voice.

He kept glancing nervously at the windows. He poured them large mugs of boiling water (he had forgotten to add tea bags) and was just putting a slab of fruitcake on a plate when there was a loud knock on the door.

Hagrid dropped the fruitcake. Harry, Lucy, and Ron exchanged panic-stricken looks, then threw the Invisibility Cloak back over themselves and retreated into a corner. Hagrid checked that they were hidden, seized his crossbow, and flung open his front door once more.

"Good evening, Hagrid."

It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-looking man.

The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression, and was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. Under his arm he carried a lime-green bowler.

"That's Dad's boss!" Ron breathed. "Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!"

Harry and Lucy both elbowed Ron hard to make him shut up.

Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Dumbledore to Cornelius Fudge.

"Bad business, Hagrid," said Fudge in rather clipped tones. "Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things've gone far enough. Ministry's got to act."

"I never," said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore. "You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir–"

"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence," sad Dumbledore, frowning at Fudge.

"Look, Albus," said Fudge, uncomfortably. "Hagrid's record's against him. Ministry's got to do something–the school governors have been in touch–"

"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of a fire Harry and Lucy had never seen before.

"Look at it from my point of view," said Fudge, fidgeting with his bowler. "I'm under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen doing something. If it turns out it wasn't Hagrid, he'll be back and no more said. But I've got to take him. Got to. Wouldn't be doing my duty–"

"Take me?" said Hagrid, who was trembling. "Take me where?"

"For a short stretch only," said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid's eyes. "Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you'll be let out with a full apology–"

"Not Azkaban?" croaked Hagrid.

Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door.

Dumbledore answered it. It was Harry and Lucy's turns for elbows in the ribs; they'd let out audible gasps.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid's hut, swathed in a long black traveling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to growl.

"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly. "Good, good…"

"What're you doin' here?" said Hagrid furiously. "Get outta my house!"

"My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being in side your–er–d'you call this a house?" said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. "I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here."

"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" said Dumbledore. He spoke politely, but the fire was still blazing in his blue eyes.

"_Dreadful_ thing, Dumbledore," said Malfoy lazily, taking out a roll of parchment, "but the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension–you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn't it? At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an _awful_ loss that would be to the school."

"Oh, now, see here, Lucius," said Fudge, looking alarmed. "Dumbledore suspended–no, no–last thing we want just now–"

"The appointment–or suspension–of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge," said Malfoy smoothly. "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks–"

"See here, Malfoy, if _Dumbledore_ can't stop them," said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating now. "I mean to say, who _can?"_

"That remains to be seen," said Mr. Malfoy with a nasty smile. "But as all twelve of us have voted–"

Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling.

"An' how many did yeh have ter threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?" he roared.

"Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it at all."

"Yeh can' take Dumbledore!" yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in his basket. "Take him away, an' the Muggle-borns won' stand a chance! There'll be killin' next!"

"Calm yourself, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply. He looked at Lucius Malfoy.

"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside–"

"But–" stuttered Fudge.

"_No!"_ growled Hagrid.

Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off of Lucius Malfoy's cold gray ones.

"However," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, "you will find that I will only _truly_ have left this school only when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

For a moment, Harry and Lucy were almost sure Dumbledore's eyes flickered toward the corner where they and Ron stood hidden.

"Admirable sentiments," said Malfoy, bowing. "We shall all miss your–er–highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any–ah–_killins'."_

He strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath, and said carefully, "If anyone wanted ter find out some _stuff,_ all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the _spiders._ That'd lead'em right. That's all I'm sayin'."

Fudge stared at him in amazement.

"All righ', I'm comin'," said Hagrid, pulling on his moleskin overcoat. But as he was about to follow Fudge through the door, he stopped again, and said loudly, "An' someone'll need ter feed Fang while I'm away."

The door banged shut and Ron pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

"We're in trouble now," he said hoarsely. "No Dumbledore. They might as well close the school tonight. There'll be an attack a day with him gone."

Fang started howling, scratching the closed door.


	15. Aragog

**Okay, to begin with, I am so, so sorry about the long delay with this chapter. It's just that I am now a senior in high school, and because my grades are being submitted to colleges now, I can't afford to be lazy about my homework, and type up this story instead. Thankfully, though, I'm starting to get used to the pace with my homework now, so I should be able to type more.  
**

**That being said, i do have some good news. Even though I haven't had much time to type up this story AFTER school, I have been writing it down DURING school with pen and paper, and I've officially finished writing the whole second book and am starting with book three already. This means all I have to do is copy it onto my laptop and the Chamber of Secrets will be officially finished and we can all move on at last to the long awaited Prisoner of Azkaban, where Lucy's story really starts! So please, be patient with me for a little bit longer!  
**

**As always, be sure to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: ****Aragog**

Summer was now creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. But with no Hagrid visible from the castle windows striding the grounds with Fang at his heels, the scene didn't look right to Harry and Lucy; no better, in fact, than the inside of the castle, where things were so horribly wrong.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron had tried to visit Hermione, but visitors were now barred from the hospital wing.

"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told them severely through a crack in the infirmary door. "No, I'm sorry, there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off…."

With Dumbledore gone, fear has spread as never before, so that the sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows. There was barely a face to be seen in the school that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that ran through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was quickly stifled.

Harry and Lucy constantly repeated Dumbledore's final words to each other. _"I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me…. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."_ But what good were these words? Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were?

Hagrid's hint about the spiders was far easier to understand–the trouble was, there didn't seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. Harry and Lucy looked everywhere they went, helped (rather reluctantly) by Ron. They were hampered, of course, by the fact that they weren't allowed to wander off on their own but had to move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of their fellow students seemed glad that they were being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but Harry and Lucy found it very irksome.

One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy was strutting around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy. Harry and Lucy didn't realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions lesson about two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left, when sitting Malfoy, Harry and Lucy overheard him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he said, not troubling to keep his voice down. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won't _want_ Mudblood's in this school McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in…."

Snape swept past Harry and Lucy, making no comment about Hermione's empty seat and cauldron.

"Sir," said Malfoy loudly. "Sir, why don't _you_ apply for the headmaster's job?"

"Now, now, Malfoy," said Snape, though he couldn't suppress a thin-lipped smile. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."

"Yeah, right," said Malfoy, smirking. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job–_I'll_ tell Father you're best teacher here, sir–"

Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus Finnigan, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.

"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger–"

The bell rang at that moment, which was lucky; at Malfoy's last words, Ron had leapt off his stool, and in the scramble to collect bags and books, his attempts to reach Malfoy went unnoticed.

"Let me at him," Ron growled as Harry and Lucy hung onto his arms. "I don't care, I don't need my wand, I'm going to kill him with my bare hands–"

"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology," barked Snape over the class's heads, and off they marched, with Harry, Lucy, and Ron bringing up the rear, Ron still trying to get loose. It was only safe to let go of him when Snape had seen them out of the castle and they were making their way across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses.

The Herbology was very subdued; there were now two missing from their number, Justin and Hermione.

Professor Sprout set them all to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs. Harry and Lucy went to tip armfuls of withered stalks onto the compost heap and found themselves face-to-face with Ernie Macmillan. Ernie took a deep breath and said, very formally, "I just want to say, Harry, Lucy, that I'm sorry I ever suspected you guys. I know you two would never attack Hermione Granger, and I apologize for all the stuff I said. We're all in the same boat, and, well–"

He held out a pudgy hand, and Harry and Lucy each shook it.

Ernie and his friend Hannah came to work at the same Shrivelfig as them and Ron.

"That Draco Malfoy character," said Ernie, breaking off dead twigs, "he seems very pleased about all this, doesn't he? D'you know, I think _he_ might be Slytherin's heir."

"That's clever of you," said Ron, who didn't seem to have forgiven Ernie as readily as Harry and Lucy.

"Do you think it's Malfoy, Harry, Lucy?" Ernie asked.

"No," said Lucy.

"No," said Harry. They said it so firmly that Ernie and Hannah stared.

A second later, Harry and Lucy both spotted something.

Several large spiders were scuttling over the ground on the other side of the glass, moving in an unnaturally straight line as though taking the shortest route to a prearranged meeting. Harry hit Ron over the hand with his pruning shears.

"_Ouch! _What're you–"

Harry pointed out the spiders, following their progress with his eyes screwed up against the sun.

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, trying, and failing, to look pleased. "But we can't follow them now–"

Ernie and Hannah were listening curiously.

Lucy's eyes narrowed as she focused on the spiders. If they pursued their fixed course, there could be no doubt about where they would end up.

"Looks like they're heading for the Forbidden Forest…."

And Ron looked even unhappier about that.

At the end of the lesson Professor Sprout escorted the class to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Harry, Lucy, and Ron lagged behind the others so they could talk out of earshot.

"We'll have to use the Invisibility Cloak again," Harry told Lucy and Ron. "We can take Fang with us. He's used to going into the forest with Hagrid, he might be some help."

"Right," said Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously in his fingers. "Er–aren't there–aren't there supposed to be werewolves in the forest?" he added as they took their usual places at the back of Lockhart's classroom.

Preferring not to answer that question, Lucy said, "There are good things in there, you know. The centaurs are kind, and the unicorns are gentle creatures…"

Ron had never been into the Forbidden Forest before. The twins had entered it only once and had hoped never to do so again.

Lockhart bounded into the room and the class stared at him. Every other teacher in the place was looking grimmer than usual, but Lockhart appeared nothing short of buoyant.

"Come now," he cried, beaming around him. "Why all the long faces?"

People swapped exasperated looks, but nobody answered.

"Don't you people realize," said Lockhart, speaking slowly as though they were all a bit dim, "the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away–"

"Says who?" said Dean Thomas loudly.

"My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn't have taken Hagrid if he hadn't been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty," said Lockhart, in the tone of someone explaining that one and one made two.

"Oh, yes he would," said Ron, even more loudly than Dean.

"I flatter myself I know a _tad_ more about Hagrid's arrest than you do, Mr. Weasley," said Lockhart in a self-satisfied tone.

Ron started to say that he didn't think so, somehow, but stopped in midsentence when Harry kicked him hard under the desk.

"We weren't there, remember?" Harry muttered.

But Lockhart's disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he had always thought Hagrid was no good, his confidence that the whole business was now at an end, irritated Lucy so much that she yearned to throw _Gadding with Ghouls_ right in Lockhart's stupid face. Instead she contented herself with scrawling a note to Harry and Ron: _We should do it tonight._

Harry nodded, but when Ron read the message, he swallowed hard. He looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight seemed to stiffen his resolve, and he, too, nodded.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o'clock onwards the Gryffindors had nowhere else to go. They also had plenty to talk about, with the result that the common room didn't empty until past midnight.

Harry went to get the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk right after dinner, and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to clear. Fred and George challenged Harry and Ron to a few games of Exploding Snap while Lucy busied herself with drawing pictures on the special roll of parchment she had bought back in Diagon Alley that brought her drawings to life, and Ginny sat watching them, very subdued in Hermione's usual chair. Harry and Ron kept losing on purpose, trying to finish the games quickly, and Lucy tried to finish her sketches as soon as she could, but even so, it was well past midnight when Fred, George, and Ginny finally went to bed.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron waited for the distant sounds of two dormitory doors closing before seizing the Cloak, throwing it over themselves, and climbing through the portrait hole.

It was another difficult journey through the castle, dodging all the teachers. At last they reached the entrance hall, slid back the lock on the oak front doors, squeezed between them, trying to stop any creaking, and stepped out into the moonlit grounds.

"'Course," said Ron abruptly as they strode across the black grass, "we might get to the forest and find there's nothing to follow. Those spiders might not've been going there at all. I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but…"

His voice trailed away hopefully.

They reached Hagrid's house, sad and sorry-looking with its blank windows. When Lucy pushed the door open, Fang went mad with joy at the sight of them. Worried he might wake everyone at the castle with his deep, booming barks, they hurriedly fed him treacle toffee from a tin on the mantelpiece, which glued his teeth together.

Harry left the Invisibility Cloak on Hagrid's table. There would be no need for it in the pitch-dark forest.

"C'mon, Fang, we're going for a walk," said Harry, patting his leg, and Fang bounded happily out of the house behind them, dashed to the edge of the forest, and lifted his leg against a large sycamore tree.

Harry took out his wand, murmured,_ "Lumos!"_ and a tiny light appeared at the end of it, just enough to let them watch the path for signs of spiders.

"Good thinking," said Ron. "You should do that too, Lucy. I'd light mine, but you know–it'd probably blow up or something…."

Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder as Lucy lit her wand, pointing at the grass. Two solitary spiders were hurrying away from the wandlights into the shade of the trees.

"Okay," Ron sighed as though resigned to the worst, "I'm ready. Let's go."

So, with Fang scampering around them, sniffing tree roots and leaves, they entered the forest. By the glows of Harry and Lucy's wands, they followed the steady trickle of spiders moving along the paths. They walked behind them for about twenty minutes, not speaking, listening hard for noises other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the trees had become thicker than ever, so that the stars overhead were no longer visible, and Harry and Lucy's wands shone alone in the sea of dark, they saw their spider guides leaving the path.

The twins paused, both of them trying to see where the spiders were going, but everything outside their little spheres of light was pitch-black. They had never been this deep into the forest before. They could vividly remember Hagrid advising them not to leave the forest path last time they'd been in here. But Hagrid was miles away now, probably sitting in Azkaban, and he had also said to follow the spiders.

Something wet touched Lucy's hand and she jumped backward, crushing Ron's foot, but it was only Fang's nose.

"What d'you guys reckon?" Harry said to Lucy and Ron, whose eyes he could just make out, reflecting the light from his and Lucy's wands.

"We've come this far," said Ron.

"Yes, let's keep going," said Lucy.

So they followed the darting shadows of the spiders into the trees. They couldn't move very quickly now; there were tree roots and stump in their way, barely visible in the near blackness. Harry and Lucy could feel Fang's hot breath on his hand. More than once they had to stop, so that Harry and Lucy could crouch down and find the spiders in the wandlight.

They walked for what seemed like at least half and hour, their robes snagging on low-slung branches and brambles. After a while, they noticed that the ground seemed to be sloping downward, though the trees were as thick as ever.

Then Fang suddenly let loose a great, echoing bark, making Harry, Lucy, and Ron jump out of their skins.

"What?" said Ron loudly, looking around into the pitch-dark, and gripping Harry and Lucy's elbows very hard.

"There's something moving over there," Harry breathed. "Listen… sounds like something big…."

They listened. Some distance to their right, the something big was snapping branches as it carved a path through the trees.

"Oh, no," said Ron. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh–"

"Quiet!" Lucy whispered frantically. "It'll hear you."

"Hear _me?"_ said Ron in an unnaturally high voice. "It's already heard Fang!"

The darkness seemed to be pressing on their eyeballs as they stood, terrified, waiting. There was a strange, rumbling noise and then silence.

"Wh-what d'you think it's doing?" said Lucy.

"Probably getting ready to pounce," said Ron.

They waited, shivering, hardly daring to move.

"D'you think it's gone?" Harry whispered.

"Dunno–"

Then, to their right, came a sudden blaze of light, so bright in the darkness that all three of them flung up their hands to shield their eyes. Fang yelped and tried to run, but got lodged in a tangle of thorns and yelped even louder.

"Harry! Lucy!" Ron shouted, his voice breaking with relief. "Harry, Lucy, it's our car!"

"_What?"_

"_Huh?"_

"Come on!"

Harry and Lucy blundered after Ron toward the light, stumbling and tripping, and a moment later they had emerged into a clearing.

Mr. Weasley's car was standing, empty, in the middle of a circle of thick trees under a roof of dense branches, its headlights ablaze. As Ron walked, openmouthed, toward it, it moved slowly toward him, exactly like a large, turquoise dog greeting its owner.

"It's been here all the time!" said Ron delightedly, walking around the car. "Look at it. The forest's turned it wild…."

The sides of the car were scratched and smeared with mud. Apparently it had taken to trundling around the forest on its own. Fang didn't seem at all keen on it; he kept close to Harry, who could feel him quivering. Their breathing slowing down again, Harry and Lucy both stuffed their wands back into their robes.

"And we thought it was going to attack us!" said Ron, leaning against the car and patting it. "I wondered where it had gone!"

Harry and Lucy squinted around on the floodlit ground for signs of more spiders, but they had all scuttled away from the glare of the headlights.

"We've lost the trail," said Harry.

"C'mon, let's go and find them," said Lucy. "Come on, Ron… Ron?"

Ron didn't speak. He didn't move. His eyes were fixed on a point some ten feet above the forest floor, right behind Harry. His face was livid with terror.

Lucy didn't even have time to look around. There was a loud clicking noise and suddenly she felt something large and hairy seize her around the middle and lift her off the ground, so that she was hanging facedown. Struggling, terrified, she heard more clicking, and saw Harry and Ron's legs leave the ground, too, heard Fang whimpering and howling–next moment, she was being swept away into the dark trees.

Head hanging, Lucy saw that what hold of her was marching on six immensely long, hairy legs, the front two clutching her tightly below a pair of shining black pincers. Behind her, she could hear more creatures, no doubt carry Harry and Ron. They were moving into the very heart of the forest. Lucy could hear Fang fighting to free himself from a fourth monster, whining loudly, but Lucy couldn't have yelled even if she had wanted to; she seemed to have left her voice back with the car in the clearing.

She never knew how long she was in the creature's clutches; she only knew that the darkness suddenly lifted enough for her to see that the leaf-strewn ground was now swarming with spiders. Craning her neck sideways, she realized that they had reached the ridge of a vast hollow, a hollow that had been cleared of trees, so that the stars shone brightly onto the worst scene she had ever laid eyes on.

Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below. Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic. The massive specimen that was carrying Lucy made its way down the steep slope toward a misty, domed web in the very center of the hollow, while it's fellows closed in all around it, clicking their pincers excitedly at the sight of its load.

Lucy fell to the ground on all fours as the spider released her. Harry, Ron, and Fang thudded down next to her. Fang wasn't howling anymore, but cowering silently on the spot. Harry was feeling around in his robes for his wand, and Ron looked exactly like Lucy felt. His mouth was stretched wide in a kind of silent scream of his eyes were popping.

Lucy suddenly realized that the spider that had dropped her was saying something. It had been hard to tell, because he clicked his pincers with every word he spoke.

"Aragog!" it called. "Aragog!"

And from the middle of the misty, domed web, a spider the size of a small elephant emerged, very slowly. There was gray in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincer head was milky white. He was blind.

"What is it?" he said, clicking his pincers rapidly.

"Humans," clicked the spider who had caught Harry.

"Is it Hagrid?" said Aragog, moving closer, his eight milky eyes wandering vaguely.

"Strangers," clicked the spider who had brought Ron.

"Kill them," clicked Aragog fretfully. "I was sleeping…."

"We're friends of Hagrid's," Harry shouted. His heart seemed to have left his chest to pound in his throat.

_Click, click, click_ went the pincers of the spiders all around the hollow.

Aragog paused.

"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," he said slowly.

"Hagrid's in trouble," said Lucy, breathing very fast. "That's why we've come."

"In trouble?" said the aged spider, and Harry and Lucy thought they heard concern beneath the clicking pincers. "But why has he sent you?"

Harry thought of getting to his feet but decided against it; he didn't think his legs would support him. So he spoke from the ground, as calmly as he could.

"They think up at the school, that Hagrid's been setting a–a–something on students. They've taken him to Azkaban."

Aragog clicked his pincers furiously, and all around the hollow the sound was echoed by the crowd of spiders; it was like applause, but applause didn't usually make Harry and Lucy feel sick with fear.

"But that was years ago," said Aragog fretfully. "Years and years ago. I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the school. They believed that _I _was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free."

"So you… you're not the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets?" said Lucy, who could feel cold sweat on her forehead."

"I!" said Aragog, clicking angrily. "I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid's goodness…."

Harry summoned what remained of his courage.

"So you never–never attacked anyone?"

"Never," croaked the old spider. "It would have been my instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. Our kind like the dark and quiet…."

"But then… Do you know what _did_ kill that girl?" said Lucy. "Because whatever it is, it's back and attacking people again–"

Her words were drowned by a loud outbreak of clicking and rustling of many long legs shifting angrily; large black shapes shifted all around them.

"The thing that lives in the castle," said Aragog, "is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go when I sensed the beast moving about the school."

"What is it?" said Harry urgently.

More loud clicking, more rustling; the spiders seemed to be closing in.

"We do not speak of it!" said Aragog fiercely. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times."

Neither Harry nor Lucy wanted to press the subject, not with the spiders pressing closer on all sides. Aragog seemed to be tired of talking. He was backing slowly into his domed web, but his fellow spiders continued to inch slowly toward Harry, Lucy, and Ron.

"Well, thank you for all your help," said Lucy, watching Aragog's children fearfully.

"We'll just go, then," Harry called desperately to Aragog, hearing leaves rustling behind him.

"Go?" said Aragog slowly. "I think not…."

"But–but–"

"W-what do you–"

"My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Good-bye, friends of Hagrid."

Harry and Lucy both spun around. Feet away, towering above them, was a solid wall of spiders, clicking, their many eyes gleaming in their ugly black heads.

Even as they reached for their wands, Harry and Lucy both knew it was no good, there were too many of them, but as they tried to stand, ready to die fighting, a loud, long note sounded, and a blaze of light flamed through the hollow.

Mr. Weasley's car was thundering down the slope, headlights glaring, it's horn screeching, knocking spiders aside; several were thrown onto their backs, their endless legs waving in the air. The car screeched to a halt in front of Harry, Lucy, and Ron and the doors flew open.

"Get Fang!" Harry yelled to his sister, diving into the front seat as Ron launched himself into the driver's side; Lucy seized the boarhound around the middle and threw him, yelping, into the back of the car, scrambling in after him–the doors slammed shut–Ron didn't touch the accelerator but the car didn't need him; the engine roared and they were off, hitting more spiders. They sped up the slope, out of the hollow, and they were soon crashing through the forest, branches whipping the windows as the car wound its way cleverly through the widest gaps, following a path it obviously knew.

Harry looked sideways at Ron. His mouth was still open in the silent scream, but his eyes weren't popping anymore. Then he turned to look at Lucy. She was visibly shaking, and her face was very pale.

"Are you guys okay?"

Lucy slowly nodded as the mumbled out a quiet "yes," but Ron stared straight ahead, unable to speak.

They smashed their way through the undergrowth, Fang howling loudly beside Lucy in the back seat, and Harry and Lucy saw the side mirror snap off as they squeezed past a large oak. After ten noisy, rocky minutes, the trees thinned, and Harry and Lucy could again see patches of sky.

The car stopped so suddenly that they were nearly thrown into the windshield. They had reached the edge of the forest. Fang flung himself at the window in his anxiety to get out, and when Lucy opened the door, he shot off through the trees to Hagrid's house, tail between his legs. Lucy climbed out after him. Harry got out, too, and after a minute or so, Ron seemed to regain the feeling in his limbs and followed, still stiff-necked and staring. Harry gave the car a grateful pat as it reversed back into the forest and disappeared from view.

Lucy went back into Hagrid's cabin to get the Invisibility Cloak. Fang was trembling under a blanket in his basket. When Lucy got outside again, she found Ron being violently sick in the pumpkin patch, and Harry gingerly patting his back.

"Follow the spiders," said Ron weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I'll never forgive Hagrid. We're lucky to be alive."

"I bet he thought Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his," said Harry.

"That's exactly Hagrid's problem!" said Ron, thumping the wall of the cabin. "He always thinks monsters aren't so bad as they're made out, look where it's got him! A cell in Azkaban!" He was shivering uncontrollably now. "What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I'd like to know?"

"We do know one thing," said Lucy, throwing the Cloak over Ron, Harry, and herself. "Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was innocent."

Ron gave a loud snort. Evidently, hatching Aragog in a cupboard wasn't his idea of being innocent.

As the castle loomed nearer, Harry twitched the Cloak to make sure their feet were hidden, then pushed the creaking front doors ajar. They walked carefully back across the entrance hall and up the marble staircase, holding their breath as they passed corridors where watchful sentries were walking. At last they reached the safety of the Gryffindor common room, where the fire had burned itself into glowing ash. They took off the Cloak and Ron began climbing the stairs to the boys' dormitory at once.

"Coming, Harry?"

"I'll be up in a minute," Harry said. He didn't feel very sleepy, and he could tell by the way Lucy had seated herself into one of the armchairs that she wanted to discuss something.

Ron shrugged before trudging the rest of the way upstairs. Once he was gone, Harry sat down in a chair across from Lucy.

"Thinking about what Aragog said?" he asked. Lucy nodded.

"Yeah, but it doesn't make sense to me. Whatever creature is lurking around the castle sounds to me like some kind of monstrous Voldemort–even other monsters are afraid of it. But we're no closer to finding out what it is, or even how it Petrified its victims. Aragog himself said that Hagrid had no idea what was in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry sighed as he leaned back into the armchair, watching the moon glinting at him through the tower windows.

"I don't see what else we can do, Luce," he said. "We've hit dead ends everywhere. Riddle obviously caught the wrong person, and the Heir of Slytherin got away." Lucy nodded.

"I know, and on one knows if it's the same person, or a different one, who opened the Chamber this time."

"Yeah, there's nobody else we can ask."

They fell silent, still thinking about what Aragog had said.

Luc was becoming drowsy, and was about to tell Harry she was going to bed, when Harry suddenly sat bolt upright.

"Lucy," he hissed through the dark. "Lucy–that girl who died. Aragog said she was found in a bathroom. What if she never left the bathroom? What if she's still there?"

Lucy stared at him with wide eyes.

"You _don't _think–not _Moaning Myrtle?"_


	16. The Chamber of Secrets

******After having all of you wait for so long for the last chapter, I felt it would only be fair for me to post this one up as soon as possible. Remember, after this chapter, there are only two left to post before the long awaited Prisoner of Azkaban! Hang tight and be patient until then!**

**As always, remember to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen:****The Chamber of Secrets**

"All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," said Ron bitterly at breakfast the next day when Harry and Lucy had told him their theory, "and we could've asked her, and now…."

It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into a girls' bathroom, the girls' bathroom moreover in Harry and Ron's case, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible.

But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

"_Exams?"_ howled Seamus Finnigan. "We're still getting _exams?"_

There was a loud bang behind Harry and Lucy as Neville Longbottom's wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus.

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," she said sternly. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

Studying hard! It had never occurred to Harry or Lucy that there would be exams with the castle in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible," she said. "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you've learned this year."

Harry and Lucy looked down at the pairs of white rabbits they were supposed to be turning into slippers. What had they learned so far this year? Neither of them could think of anything that would be useful in an exam.

Ron looked as though he'd just been told he had to go and live in the Forbidden Forest.

"Can you imagine me taking the exams with this?" he asked Harry and Lucy, holding up his wand, which had just started whistling loudly.

* * *

Three days before the first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with out catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering. Lucy looked over at the Slytherin table and couldn't help but smile when she saw that Draco Malfoy was joining in. Ron was looking happier than he'd looked in days.

"It won't matter that we never talked to Myrtle, then!" he said to Harry and Lucy. "Hermione'll probably have all the answers when they wake her up! Mind you, she'll go crazy when she finds out we've got exams in three days' time. She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they're over."

Just then, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and Harry and Lucy noticed that her hands were twitching in her lap.

"What's up?" said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.

Ginny didn't say anything, but glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on her face that reminded the twins of someone, though they couldn't think of who.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.

Harry and Lucy suddenly remembered who Ginny looked like. She was rocking backward and forward slightly in her chair, exactly like Dobby did when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.

"I've got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry or Lucy.

"What is it?" said Harry.

Ginny looked as though she couldn't find the right words.

"What's wrong?" said Lucy.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only Ginny, Lucy, and Ron could hear him.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Ginny drew a deep breath and, at that precise moment, Percy Weasley appeared, looking tired and wan.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving. I've only just come off patrol duty."

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.

"Percy!" said Ron angrily. "She was just about to tell us something important."

Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked.

"What sort of thing?" he said, coughing.

"I just asked if she's seen anything odd, and she started to say–"

"Oh–that–that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy at once.

"How do you know?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was–well, never mind–the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather–"

Harry and Lucy had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable.

"What were you doing, Percy?" said Ron, grinning. "Go on, tell us, we won't laugh."

Percy didn't smile back.

"Pass me those rolls, Harry. I'm starving."

* * *

Harry and Lucy both knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without their help, but they weren't about to pass up a chance to speak to Myrtle if it turned up–and to their delight it did, midmorning, when they were being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proven wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be _'It was Hagrid.'_ Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

"I agree, sir," said Harry, making Ron drop his books in surprise.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes, and standing guard all night…."

"That's right," said Lucy, in a fake, sweet voice. "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go–"

"You know what, Lucy, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go and prepare my next class–"

And he hurried off.

"Prepare his class," Ron sneered after him. "Gone to curl his hair, more like."

They let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of them, then darted down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other on their brilliant scheme–

"Potter's! Weasley! What are you doing here?"

It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines.

"We were–we were–" Ron stammered.

"We were just–uh–" said Harry. "We were just going to–uh–"

"We were just going to see Hermione," said Lucy. Harry, Ron, and Professor McGonagall looked at her.

"It's been a long time since we last saw her, Professor," Lucy smoothly went on, "and we thought we'd go and visit her in the hospital wing, to tell her the Mandrakes are almost ready."

Professor McGonagall was still staring at her, and for a moment, Lucy thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.

"Of course," she said, and Lucy, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been… I quite understand. Yes, Miss Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

Harry, Lucy, and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"That," said Ron fervently, "was the best story you've ever come up with."

They had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no _point_ talking to a Petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to Herminie after Lucy had taken a moment to check up on Colin. It was plain that Hermione didn't have the faintest inkling that she had visitors, and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know…."

But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blanket, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Lucy and Ron.

"Try and get it out," Lucy whispered, shifting her chair so that she blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey.

It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it! While Lucy and Ron kept watch he tugged and twisted, and at last, after several minutes, the paper came free.

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Lucy and Ron leaned close to read it, too.

_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land,_

_there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk,_

_known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may_

_reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born_

_from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. It's methods of_

_killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and ven-_

_omous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who_

_are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death._

_Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy,_

_and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster,_

_which is fatal to it._

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand that Harry and Lucy recognized as Hermione's. _Pipes._

It was as though somebody had just flicked lights on in their brains.

"Ron," Harry breathed. "This is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a _basilisk_–a giant serpent!"

"_That_ explains why we've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it," said Lucy excitedly. "It's because we both understand Parseltongue…."

Harry and Lucy look up at the beds around them.

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died–because no one looked it straight in the eye." Harry said.

"I know that Colin saw it through his camera," said Lucy. "I was in the hospital wing the night he was brought it. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified."

"Justin… Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die _again…."_

"And Hermione and that Ravenclaw girl–I think George said her name's Penelope Clearwater–they were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. She must have warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! Penelope must have been that first person! She must have pulled out her mirror–and–"

Ron's jaw had dropped.

"And Mrs. Norris?" he whispered eagerly.

Harry and Lucy thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween.

"The water…" Harry said slowly. "There was water on the floor that night."

"That's right! It was flooding from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Mrs. Norris only saw the basilisk's reflection…."

Harry scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more he looked of it, the more it made sense.

"_The basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it!"_ he read aloud. "Hagrid's roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! _Spiders flee before the Basilisk!_ It all fits!"

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A giant snake… Someone would've seen…"

Lucy, however, pointed at the word Hermione had scribbled at the foot of the page.

"Pipes," she said. "Pipes… Ron, it's been using the plumbing. Harry and I've been hearing that voice inside the walls…."

Ron suddenly grabbed Harry and Lucy's arms.

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" he said hoarsely. "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in–"

"–_Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!"_ said Harry and Lucy.

They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly able to believe it.

"This means," said Harry, "that Lucy and I can't be the only Parselmouth's in the school. The Heir of Slytherin's one, too. That's how he's been controlling the basilisk."

"What're we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. "Should we go straight to McGonagall?"

"Let's go to the staffroom," said Lucy, jumping up. "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staffroom. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. Harry, Lucy, and Ron paced around it, too excited to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

"_All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."_

Lucy wheeled around to stare at Harry and Ron.

"Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staffroom door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staffroom. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."_

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry and Lucy both felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor between them.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry and Lucy were sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry–dozed off–what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I–well, I–" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall–"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been give a free reign from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I–I really never–you may have misunderstood–"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free reign at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"Very well," he said. "I'll–I'll be in my office getting–getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got _him_ out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

* * *

It was probably the worst day of Harry and Lucy's entire lives. They, Ron, Fred, and George sat together in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, unable to say anything to each other. Percy wasn't there. He had gone to send an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and then shut himself up in his dormitory.

No afternoon had ever lasted as long as that one, nor had the Gryffindor Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. Near sunset, Fred and George went up to bed, unable to sit there any longer.

"She knew something, Harry, Lucy," said Ron, speaking for the first time since they entered the wardrobe in the staffroom. "That's why she was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Percy at all. She'd found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was–" Ron rubbed his eyes frantically. "I mean, she was a pure-blood. There can't be any other reason."

The twins could see the sun sinking, blood-red, below the skyline. This was the worst either of them had ever felt. If only there was something they could do. Anything.

"Harry, Lucy," said Ron. "D'you think there's any chance at all she's not–you know–"

Harry didn't know what to say. He couldn't see how Ginny could still be alive. Lucy, on the other hand, felt that she had to give Ron hope.

"I don't know, Ron, but I certainly hope so…."

"D'you know what?" said Ron. "I think we should go and see Lockhart. To tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there."

Because Harry and Lucy couldn't think of anything else to do, and because they wanted to be doing something, they agreed. The Gryffindors around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys, that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left through the portrait hole.

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart's office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh–Mr. and Miss Potter–Mr. Weasley–" he said, opening the door a bit wider. "I'm rather bust at the moment–if you would be quick–"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We think it'll help you."

"Er–well–it's not terribly–" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean–well–all right–"

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight-blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Are you going somewhere?" said Lucy.

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call–unavoidable–got to go–"

"What about my sister?" said Ron jerkily.

"Well, as to that–most unfortunate–" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more that I–"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well–I must say–when I took the job–" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes, "nothing in the job description–didn't expect–"

"You mean you're _running away?"_ said Lucy disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books?"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Lucy shouted.

"My dear girl," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Lucy. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think _I'd_ done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old American warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on–"

"You're a fraud!" Harry snapped. "You've just been taking credit for what other witches and wizards have done!"

"Harry, Lucy," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently. "It's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's anything I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry, Lucy. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

"Awfully sorry about this, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on all three of you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book–"

Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunks; his wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that spell that day in the Dueling Club," said Lucy furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at them, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at them.

"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"You're in luck," said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "We think _we_ know where it is. _And_ what's inside it. Let's go."

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the message on the wall, to the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you two," she said when she saw Harry and Lucy. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Harry.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this stall. I remember it well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet and then–" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I _died."_

"Just like that?" said Lucy. "But how?"

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere over there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry, Lucy, and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face.

It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry and Lucy saw it: Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as Harry tried to turn it.

"Harry, Lucy," said Ron. "Say something. Say something in Parseltongue."

"But–" Harry thought hard. The only time he and Lucy had ever managed to speak Parseltongue were when they'd been faced with a real snake.

"We've got to try, at least," said Lucy. Harry nodded. They both stared hard at the tiny engraving, trying to imagine it was real.

"Open up," they said together.

They looked at Ron, who shook his head.

"English," he said.

The twins looked back at the snake, willing themselves to believe it was alive. If they moved their heads, the candlelight made it look as though it were moving.

"Open up," they said together.

Except that the words weren't what they heard; a strange hissing had escaped them, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Harry and Lucy heard Ron gasp and looked up again. They had made up their minds what they were going to do.

"We're going down there," Harry said.

They couldn't not go, not now they had found the entrance to the Chamber, not if there was the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Ginny might still be alive.

"Me too," said Ron.

There was a pause.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. "I'll just–"

He put his hand on the doorknob, but Harry, Lucy, and Ron all pointed their wands at him.

"You can go first," Ron snarled.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

"Please," he said, his voice feeble. "Please, what good will it do?"

Lucy jabbed him in the back with her wand.

"Better you than us," she snipped.

Lockhart slid his legs in the pipe.

"I really don't think–" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight. Harry followed, and then it was Lucy's turn. She lowered herself slowly into the pipe, and then let go.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. She could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downwards, and she knew that she was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. Behind her she could hear Ron thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as she had begun to worry about what would happen when she hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and she shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Lockhart was getting to his feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost, and Harry was wiping his glasses on the sleeved of his robes. Lucy stood aside as Ron came whizzing out of the pipe, too.

"We must be miles under the school," said Lucy, her voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," said Ron, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

All four of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead.

"_Lumos,"_ Harry muttered to his wand and it lit again. "C'mon," he said to Lucy, Ron, and Lockhart, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the floor.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

"Remember," Harry said quietly as they walked cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes right away…."

But the tunnel was quiet as the grave and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud _crunch_ as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Harry lowered his wand to look t the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Ginny might look like if they found her, Harry led the way forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

"Harry–there's something up there–" said Ron hoarsely, grabbing Harry's shoulder.

They froze, watching. They could just see the outline of something huge and curved lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.

"Maybe it's asleep," Harry breathed, glancing back at the other three. Lockhart's hands were pressed over his eyes. Harry turned back to look at the thing, his heart beating very fast.

Very slowly, his eyes as narrow as he could make them and still see, Harry edged forward, his wand held high. Lucy lit her own wand and quietly stepped forward, staying a few feet behind him.

The two lights slid over a gigantic snakeskin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

"Blimey," said Ron weakly.

There was a sudden movement behind them. Gilderoy Lockhart's knees had given way.

"Get up," said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet–then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground.

Harry and Lucy jumped forward, but too late–Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron's wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his feet.

"The adventure ends here!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you three _tragically_ lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body–say good-bye to your memories!"

He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, _"Obliviate!"_

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry and Lucy both flung their arms over their heads and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to the floor. Next moment, they were standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Are you okay? Ron?"

"Ron!" Lucy shouted. "Are you hurt at all?"

"I'm here!" came Ron's muffled voice from behind the rock fall. "I'm okay–this git's not, though–he got blasted by the wand–"

There was a dull thud and a loud "ow!" It sounded as though Ron had just kicked Lockhart in the shins.

"What now?" Ron's voice said, sounding desperate. "We can't get through–it'll take ages…."

Lucy looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it. She and Harry had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by magic, and now didn't seem a good moment to try–what if the whole tunnel caved in?

There was another thud and another "ow!" from behind the rocks. They were wasting time. Ginny had already been in the Chamber of Secrets for hours…. Harry and Lucy looked at each other and nodded. They knew there was only one thing to do.

"Wait there," Harry called to Ron. "Wait with Lockhart."

"We'll go and find Ginny," Lucy shouted. "If we're not back in an hour…"

There was a very pregnant pause.

"I'll try and shift some of this rock," said Ron, who seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. "So you can–can get back through. And, Harry, Lucy–"

"See you in a bit," said Harry, trying to inject some confidence into his shaking voice.

And Harry and Lucy set off alone past the giant snakeskin.

Soon the distant noise of Ron straining to shift the rocks was gone. The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Harry and Lucy's bodies were tingling unpleasantly. They both wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what they'd find when it did. And then, at last, as they crept around yet another bend, they saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

Harry and Lucy approached, their throats very dry. There was no need to pretend these stone snakes were real; their eyes looked strangely alive.

They could guess what they had to do. They cleared their throats, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker.

"_Open,"_ said Harry and Lucy, in low, faint hisses.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry and Lucy, both shaking from head to foot, walked inside.


	17. The Heir of Slytherin

**Alright, here is the product of being sick with a horrible sore throat on a school day. And it pleases me to say that there is only one more chapter left until the Prisoner of Azkaban, where Lucy's story really starts! Be patient for just one more chapter until then!  
**

**As always, be sure to review!**

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**Chapter Seventeen:****The Heir of Slytherin**

They were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

Their hears beating very fast, Harry and Lucy stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a corner behind a pillar? And where was Ginny?

They both pulled out their wands and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. They both kept their eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following them. More than once with jolts of their stomachs, they thought they saw one stir.

Then, as they drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue–high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.

Harry and Lucy had to crane their necks to look up into the giant-face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous stone feet stood on the smooth stone floor. And between the feet, face-down, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

"_Ginny!"_ Harry and Lucy muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to their knees.

"Ginny–don't be dead–please don't be dead–" Harry flung his wand aside, grabbed her shoulders, and turned her over as Lucy gently shook her. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be–

"Ginny, please wake up," Lucy muttered desperately, throwing her wand to the side, too, as she shook her again. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Harry and Lucy both jumped and spun around on their knees.

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Harry and Lucy were looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him.

"It's you…."

"Tom–_Tom Riddle?"_

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off of Harry and Lucy.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not–she's not–?"

"She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

Harry and Lucy stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, and yet here he stood, a weird misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" Lucy said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

He pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry and Lucy had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. For a second, Harry and Lucy both wondered how it had got there–but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"You've got to help us, Tom," Harry said, raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get out of here."

"There's a basilisk, Tom," Lucy said. "We don't know where it is, but it could come along any moment…. Please, help us–"

Riddle didn't move. Working together, Harry and Lucy, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny half off the floor, and bent to pick up their wands again.

But their wands were gone.

"Where did they–?"

"Did you see–?"

They looked up. Riddle was still watching them–twirling Harry and Lucy's wands between his long fingers.

"Thanks," said Harry, stretching out his hand for them.

A smile curled the corners of Riddle's mouth. He continued to stare at Harry and Lucy, twirling the wands idly.

"Listen, Tom," said Lucy urgently, her knees sagging with Ginny's dead weight. _"We've got to go!_ IF the basilisk comes–"

"It won't come unless it's called," said Riddle calmly.

Harry and Lucy both lowered Ginny back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any longer.

"What do you mean?" Harry said. "Look, give us our wands. We might need them–"

Riddle's smile broadened.

"Neither of you will be needing them," he said.

Harry and Lucy stared at him.

"What d'you mean, we won't be–?"

"I've waited for this for a long time, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter," said Riddle. "For the chance to see both of you. To speak to both of you."

"Look," said Harry, losing patience. "I don't think you get it. We're in the _Chamber of Secrets._ We can talk later–"

"We're going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry and Lucy's wands.

Harry and Lucy stared at him before looking at each other. There was something very funny going on here….

"What happened to Ginny?" Lucy asked slowly. "Why did the monster take her? She's a pure blood."

"Well those are interesting questions," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason pure blood Ginny Weasley's like this and left for the monster is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"The diary," said Riddle. _"My_ diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes–how her brothers _tease_ her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how" –Riddle's eyes glinted– "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would _ever_ like her and how she didn't think she would _ever _be a good enough friend to his equally great and famous sister, Lucy Potter…."

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry and Lucy's faces. There was an almost hungry look in them.

"It's very _boring,_ having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient, I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me. _No one's ever understood me like you, Tom…. I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in…. It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…."_

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry and Lucy's necks.

"If I say it myself, Harry, Lucy, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of _my_ secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into _her…"_

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.

"Haven't either of you guessed yet, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No," Lucy whispered.

"Yes," said Riddle calmly. "Of course, she didn't _know_ what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you two could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became…._ Dear Tom,"_ he recited, watching Harry and Lucy's horrified faces, _"I think I'm losing my memory, There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me…. There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad…. I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"_

Harry's fists clenched, the nails digging deep into his palms, and Lucy's teeth grinded together as she angrily glared at Riddle.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where the two of _you_ came in, Harry, Lucy. You two found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you_ two, the very people I was most anxious to meet…."

"And why did you want to meet us?" said Harry. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his vice steady.

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you two," said Riddle. "Your whole _fascinating _histories." His eyes roved over each of the lightning scars on Harry and Lucy's foreheads, and his expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about both of you, talk to both of you, meet both of you if I could. So I decided to show you two my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust–"

"Hagrid's our friend," said Lucy, her voice shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? We thought you made a mistake, but–"

"It was my word against Hagrid's. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so _brave, _school prefect, model student… on the other hand, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls… but I admit, even _I _was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought _someone_ must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken _me_ five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed…. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…."

"Dumbledore must have seen right through your little act," said Lucy, her teeth still gritted.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber of Secrets again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it this time," said Lucy triumphantly.

"That's right," said Harry. "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Drought will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again–"

"Haven't I already told you two," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new targets have been–_you two."_

Harry and Lucy stared at him.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not either of either. You see, she saw you with the diary, Lucy, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back, but I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you two were on the tail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you two, I knew you would both go to any lengths to solve the mystery–particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because both of you could speak Parseltongue….

"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became _very_ boring. But there isn't much life left in her…. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last…. I have been waiting for you two to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd both come. I have many questions for you two, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter."

"Like what?" the twins spat, fists still clenched and teeth still grinded.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that _you two_–simple children with no extraordinary magical talents–managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you two_ escape with nothing but scars, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

Harry and Lucy glanced at one another in confusion before turning back to Riddle. There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

"Why do you care how we escaped?" said Harry slowly.

"Yeah," said Lucy in a cautious tone. "Voldemort was after your time…."

"Voldemort," said Riddle slowly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter…."

He pulled one of their wands from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

"You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, from my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry, Lucy–I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew witches and wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Harry's brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder his and his sister's own parents, and so many others….

Lucy had gone very white, and she only stare at Riddle with wide eyes and her mouth agape. Coherent thoughts weren't functioning at all. She was standing right in front of the one who had murdered her and Harry's parents, as well as countless others….

At last Harry forced himself to speak.

"You're not," he said, his quiet voice full of hatred.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so."

"Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts," Lucy added, catching on to what her brother was doing. "Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever it is that you're hiding these days–"

The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.

"Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere_ memory_ of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted.

"He'll never _truly _be gone!" Lucy nearly shouted. "Not as long as there are those here who remain loyal to him!"

Both of them were speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true–

Riddle opened his mouth but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hairs on Harry and Lucy's scalps and made their hearts feel as though they were swelling to twice their normal sizes. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that the twins felt it vibrating inside their own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping it weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry and Lucy. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at their feet, then landed heavily on Harry's shoulder. As it folded it's great wings, Harry and Lucy looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and beady black eyes.

"That's a phoenix…." Said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"_Fawkes?"_ Harry and Lucy breathed, and the bird's golden claws squeezed Harry's shoulder gently.

"And _that_–_"_ said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat–"

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry and Lucy's feet.

Riddle began to laugh again He laughed so hard that the dark Chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddle's were laughing at once–

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defenders? A songbird and an old hat! Do you two feel brave, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter? Do you two feel safe now?"

Harry and Lucy didn't answer. They might not see what use Fawkes or the Sorting Hat were, but they were no longer alone, and they waited for Riddle to stop laughing with their courage mounting.

"To business, Harry, Lucy," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice–in _your_ pasts, in _my_ future–we have met. And twice I have failed to kill both of you. _How did both of you survive?_ Tell me everything. The longer you two talk," he added softly, "the longer you two stay alive."

Harry and Lucy glanced at each other as they thought fast, weighing their chances. Riddle had their wands. They, Harry and Lucy, had Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, neither of which would be good in a duel. It looked bad, all right… but the longer Riddle stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Ginny… and in the meantime, Harry and Lucy noticed suddenly, Riddle's outline was becoming clearer, more solid…. If it had to be a fight between them and Riddle, better sooner than later.

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked us," said Harry abruptly. "We don't know ourselves. But we know why you couldn't _kill_ us. Because our mother died to save us. Our common, _Muggle-born_ mother," he added, shaking with suppressed rage.

"She stopped you from killing us," said Lucy, feeling anger course through her. "And we've seen the real you last year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all the power you desired got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly, you're foul–"

Riddle's face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile.

"So. Your mother died to save both of you. Yes, that's a powerful counter-charm. I can see now… there is nothing special about either of you, after all. I wondered, you see. Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter. Even you two must have noticed. All three of us half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only three Parselmouth's to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even _look_ something alike…. But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you two from me. That's all I wanted to know."

Harry and Lucy stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise his wand. But Riddle's twisted smile was widening again.

"Now, Harry, Lucy, I'm going to teach both of you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Potter Twins, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give them…."

He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then walked away. Harry and Lucy, fear spreading up their numb legs, watched Riddle stop between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed–but Harry and Lucy understood what he was saying….

"_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

The twins wheeled around to look at the statue, Fawkes swaying of Harry's shoulder.

Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Harry and Lucy saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.

And something was stirring inside the statues mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

Harry and Lucy backed away until they hit the dark Chamber wall, and as they shut their eyes tight they felt Fawkes' wings sweep their cheeks as he took flight. They wanted to shout, "Don't leave us!" but what chance did a phoenix have against the king of serpents?

Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Harry and Lucy felt a shudder–they knew what was happening, they could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth. Then they heard Riddle's hissing voice:

"_Kill them."_

The basilisk was moving toward Harry and Luc; they could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, Harry and Lucy grabbed each other's hands and began to run blindly sideways, each of them keeping one hand outstretched, feeling their way–Voldemort was laughing–

Harry tripped. Dragging Lucy down with him. They fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood–the serpent was barely feet from them, they could hear it coming–

There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above them, and then something heavy hit Harry and Lucy so hard that they were both smashed into the wall. Waiting for the fangs to sink through their bodies, they heard more mad hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars–

"What's going on?" Lucy whispered.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back. "Let's open our eyes just enough to squint so we can see."

"Okay."

They opened their eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. As Harry and Lucy trembled, ready to close their eyes if it turned, they saw what had distracted the snake.

Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers–

Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing the twins, and before either of them could shut their eyes, it turned–Harry and Lucy looked straight into it's face and saw that its eyes, both of its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctuated by the phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.

"_NO!"_ Harry and Lucy heard Riddle screaming. _"LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE CHILDREN ARE BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL THEM! KILL THEM!"_

The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes.

"Help us, help us," Harry muttered wildly, "someone–anyone–"

"Shh!" Lucy hissed. "It'll hear–"

The snake's tail whipped across the floor again. Harry and Lucy both ducked. Something soft hit Harry's face.

The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry's arms. Harry seized it. It was all they had left, their only chance–he rammed it onto his head, seized Lucy's hand, and threw himself flat onto the floor, dragging her down with him, as the basilisk's tail swung over them again.

"Help us–help us–" Harry whispered, his eyes screwed tight under the hat. "Please, help us–"

There was no answering voice. Instead, the hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly.

Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head, almost knocking him out. Seeing stars winking in front of her brother's eyes, Lucy grabbed the top of the hat to pull it off his head and felt something very long and hard beneath it.

A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.

"_KILL THE CHILDREN! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE CHILDREN ARE BEHIND YOU! SNIFF_–_SMELL THEM!"_

Harry and Lucy were on their feet, ready. The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face them. They could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow both of them whole, lined with fangs as long as Lucy's sword, thin, glittering, venomous–

It lunged blindly–Harry and Lucy dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed at their sides. Lucy raised the sword in both her hands–

The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true–Lucy threw her whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth–

But as warm blood drenched Lucy's arms, she felt a searing pain just above her elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into her arm and it splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Harry grabbed Lucy as she started sliding down the wall. He gripped the fang that was spreading poison throughout her body and wrenched it out of her arm. But Lucy knew it was too late. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as Harry dropped the fang and watched Lucy's own blood soaking her robes, her vision went foggy. Harry and the Chamber were dissolving in a whirl of dull color.

"Lucy!" Harry said, frantically shaking her shoulders. "No–please–Lucy–"

A patch of scarlet swam past, and Lucy heard a soft clatter of claws beside her.

"Fawkes," said Lucy thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes…."

She felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced her.

Over Harry's pleading shouts she could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of her.

"You're dead, Lucy Potter," said Riddle's voice above her. "Dead. Even your brother and Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what they're doing, Lucy? They're both crying."

Lucy blinked. Harry and Fawkes's heads slid in and out of focus. Harry's eyes were glistening as he squeezed her hand, and thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feather of Fawkes.

"I'm going to sit here and watch your brother mourn over you as you die, Lucy Potter, and then I'll kill him. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Lucy felt drowsy. Everything around her seemed to be spinning.

"So ends the famous Potter Twins," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone together in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by their friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord they so unwisely challenged. You'll be joining your sister with your dear Mudblood mother in a moment, Harry…. She bought you two twelve years of borrowed time…. But Lord Voldemort got you both in the end, as you both knew he must…."

"Lucy…" Harry whispered, not paying any mind to what Riddle was saying.

If this is dying, thought Lucy, it's not so bad.

Even the pain was leaving her….

But was this dying? Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. Lucy gave her head a little shake, and looked up at Harry, who was staring, amazed, at her wound. She glanced at it, and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Lucy's arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound–except that there _was_ no wound–

"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from her–I said, _get away_–_"_

Harry helped Lucy sit up. Riddle was pointing one of their wands at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at Lucy's arm. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"

He looked into Harry and Lucy's faces. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you two and me, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter… you two and me…."

He raised the wand–

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell right in front of Harry and Lucy–_the diary._

For a split second, Harry, Lucy, and Riddle, wand still raised stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor between him and Lucy and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor. Lucy stared in shock at Riddle, who was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then–

He had gone. Their wands fell to the floor with two clatters and there was silence. Silence except for the steady _drip drip_ of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

"Harry," Lucy breathed. "Why did you do that?"

Shaking all over, Harry pulled himself up, and offered her his hand.

"I'm not really sure why," he said, helping her to stand. "But I felt like I had to do it."

"Oh."

Their heads were spinning as though they'd just traveled miles by Floo powder. Slowly, they gathered together their wands, the diary, the Sorting Hat, and, with huge tugs, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the basilisk's mouth.

Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Ginny was stirring. As Harry and Lucy hurried toward her, she sat up. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry and Lucy, in her blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in Lucy's hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.

"Harry, Lucy–oh, Harry, Lucy–I tried to tell both of you at b-breakfast, but I _c-couldn't_ say it in front of Percy–it was _me,_ Harry, Lucy–but I–but I swear I d-didn't mean to–R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over–and–_how_ did you two kill that–that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary–"

"It's all right, Ginny," said Lucy, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the fang hole. "Look! Riddle's gone!"

"Him _and_ the basilisk," said Harry. "C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here–"

"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as they helped her awkwardly to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and–_w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"_

Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Harry and Lucy urged Ginny forward; they stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. Harry and Lucy heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.

After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached Harry and Lucy's ears.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up. "Ginny's okay! We've got her!"

They heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.

"_Ginny!"_ Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How–what–where did that bird come from?"

Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny.

"He's Dumbledore's," said Harry, squeezing through himself.

"How come you've got a _sword?"_ said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry's hand as Lucy crawled out after her brother.

"We'll explain when we get out of here," said Lucy with a sideways glance at Ginny, who was crying harder than ever.

"But–"

"Later," Harry said shortly. He also didn't think it was a good idea to tell Ron who'd been opening the Chamber, not in front of Ginny, anyway.

"Where's Lockhart, by the way?" Lucy asked.

"Back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."

Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.

"His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself."

Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all.

"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry and Lucy.

They bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe.

"Have either of you thought how we're going to get back up this?" he asked Harry and Lucy.

They started to shake their heads, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Ron and was now fluttering in front of Harry and Lucy, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry and Lucy looked uncertainly at him.

"He looks like he wants one of you to grab hold…" said Ron, looking perplexed. "But you're both much to heavy for a bird to pull there–"

"Fawkes," said Harry, "Isn't an ordinary bird."

"He's a phoenix, Ron," said Lucy, "and phoenixes can carry extremely heavy things." She turned quickly to her twin. "How should we do this?"

"We've got to hold on to each other. You go after me, followed by Ron. Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Professor Lockhart–"

"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.

"You hold Ginny's other hand–"

Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Lucy shoved the diary into her pocket while Ron took hold of the back of her robes, and Harry held out one of his ankles for Lucy to grab onto before reaching out and taking hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through Harry and Lucy's whole bodies and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. They could hear Lockhart dangling below them, saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was whipping through Harry's hair and Lucy's pigtails, and before they'd stopped enjoying the ride, it was over–the five of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his bat, the sink that hid the pipe slid back into place.

Myrtle goggled at them.

"You're still alive," she said blankly to Harry.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said gingerly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.

"Oh, well… I'd just been thinking… if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.

"Urgh!" said Ron as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. "Harry! I think Myrtle's grown _fond_ of you! You've got competition, Ginny!"

But tears were still flooding silently down Ginny's face.

"Where now?" said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry and Lucy pointed.

Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office.

Lucy knocked and pushed the door open.


	18. Dobby's Reward

******Okay, I want to be happy about posting this last chapter of Chamber of Secrets right now, but I can't be. Not when I'm as sick as I am right now.  
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**Yesterday, I attempted to go to school because I still need to stay on top of my grades, but I think I ended up making myself even sicker than I already was. I stayed home today again, fighting back a horrible cough and runny nose along with that awful sore throat I mentioned last chapter, and finished typing this because I can't stay asleep for more than fifteen minutes before I wake up and start coughing again. My mom is going to take me to the doctor as soon as she gets home from work, and I can't be happier. I just want to be healthy again.  
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**Don't expect chapter one of Prisoner of Azkaban to be up soon. It's not finished yet, and with me feeling as crappy as I do right now, it'll be a miracle if I can even focus on holding a pencil right now. So sorry, but I can't think up good ideas when I'm feeling this.  
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**For now, please enjoy the last chapter of The Chamber of Secrets and please review!**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen:****Dobby's Reward**

For a moment, there was silence as Harry, Lucy, Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Lucy's case) blood. Then there was a scream.

"_Ginny!"_

It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

Harry and Lucy, however, were looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry and Lucy's ears and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry and Lucy found themselves and Ron being swept into Mrs. Weasley's tight embrace.

"You saved her! You saved her! _How _did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.

Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and Lucy, who hesitated as they glanced at each other for a moment, then they nodded and walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary.

Then they started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour they took turns speaking into the rapt silence: They told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realized that they were hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how they and Ron had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how they had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom….

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted them as they paused, "so you found out where the entrance was–breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add–but how on _earth_ did you all get out of there alive, Potter's?"

So Harry and Lucy, their voices now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving them the sword. But then they both faltered. They had so far avoided mentioning Riddle's diary–or Ginny. She was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? Riddle's diary didn't work anymore…. How could they prove that it had been _he_ who'd made her do it all?

Instinctively, Harry and Lucy looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles.

"What interests _me_ most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

Relief–warm, sweeping, glorious relief–swept over the twins.

"W-what's that?" said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. _"You-Know-Who?_ En-enchant _Ginny?_ But Ginny's not… Ginny hasn't been… has she?"

"It was because of this diary," said Lucy quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Tom Riddle wrote in it when he was sixteen."

Dumbledore took the diary from Lucy and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with–with–_him?"_

"His d-diary!" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year–"

"_Ginny!"_ said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you _anything?_ What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself _if you can't see where it keeps its brain._ Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was _clearly_ full of Dark Magic–"

"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it–"

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser witches and wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice–I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly.

"And Colin!" Lucy piped.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall. "I think all this merits a good _feast._ Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with the Potter's and Mr. Weasley, shall I?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

She left, and Harry, Lucy, and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, _deal_ with them? Surely–_surely_–they weren't about to be punished?

"I seem to remember telling you three that I would have to expel you if you broke anymore school rules," said Dumbledore.

Ron opened his mouth in horror.

"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "All three of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the school and–let me see–yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."

Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers and closed his mouth again.

"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

Harry and Lucy gave a start. They had completely forgotten about Lockhart. They turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Ron quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart–"

"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.

"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"

"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword. Those children have one, though." He pointed at Harry and Lucy. "They'll lend you it."

"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?" Dumbledore said to Ron. "I'd like to have a few more words with Harry and Lucy…."

Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore, Harry, and Lucy as he closed the door.

Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.

"Sit down, Harry, Lucy," he said, and Harry and Lucy sat, both feeling unaccountably nervous.

"First of all, Harry, Lucy, I want to thank you both," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You both must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Harry grinned awkwardly and Lucy went bright red as Dumbledore watched them.

"And so both of you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was _most_ interested in you two…."

Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Professor Dumbledore… Riddle said we're like him. Strange likenesses, he said…."

"_Did_ he now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry and Lucy from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you two think, Harry, Lucy?"

"W-we don't think we're like him at all!" said Lucy, more loudly than she'd intended.

"Yeah," said Harry. "We're–we're in _Gryffindor, _we…"

As he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfaced in Lucy's mind.

"Professor," she said after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told both of us we'd–we'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought one of _us_ was Slytherin's heir for a while… because we can speak Parseltongue…."

"Both of you can speak Parseltongue, Harry, Lucy," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort–who _is_ the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin–can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to the both of you, the night he gave you two those scars. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…."

"Voldemort put bits of himself in _us?"_ Harry said, thunderstruck.

"It certainly seems so."

"So we _should_ be in Slytherin," said Lucy, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in us, and it–"

"Put both of you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry, Lucy. You both happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue–resourcefulness–determination–a certain disregard to the rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat put you two in Gryffindor. Both of you know why that was. Think."

"It only put us in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because we asked not to go in Slytherin."

"We asked it to put us in Gryffindor," said Lucy faintly.

"_Exactly,"_ said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes both of you _very different_ from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, Lucy, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry and Lucy sat motionless in their chairs as they stared at one another, stunned. "If either of want proof, Harry, Lucy, that both of you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest that both of you look more closely at _this."_

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to the twins. Dully, Harry and Lucy turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then they saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

_Godric Gryffindor._

"Only to true Gryffindor's would the hat have let_ that _be pulled from it, Harry, Lucy," said Dumbledore simply.

For a minute, none of them spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.

"What both of you need, Harry, Lucy, is some food and sleep. I suggest you both go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban–we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the _Daily Prophet,_ too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…. Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Harry and Lucy both got up and crossed to the door. Harry had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was _Dobby._

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry and Lucy over as he swept into the room. Dobby was scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.

The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoy's shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

"So!" he said. "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too…. Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

"So–have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"_Well?"_ said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."

He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry and Lucy, however, were watching Dobby.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great fixed meaningfully on Harry and Lucy, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

"I see…" said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry and Lucy here" –Mr. Malfoy shot the twins a swift, sharp look– "and their friend Ron hadn't discovered this book, why–Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted on her own free will…."

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was masklike.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then…. The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns…. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…."

Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.

"Very fortunate," he said stiffly.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

And Harry and Lucy suddenly understood. They nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Lucy, "don't you want to know how Ginny got a hold of such a dangerous book like that diary?"

Lucius Malfoy rounded on her and Harry.

"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he said.

"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"

They saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry and Lucy. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…."

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry and Lucy distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf.

"We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Lucy stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to her–

"Professor Dumbledore," she said hurriedly. "Can Harry and I give that diary _back _to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Lucy," said Dumbledore calmly. "But hurry. The feast, remember…."

Ignoring Harry's confused look, Lucy grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office.

"Lucy," said Harry, running after her. "What're you–"

"Give me one of your socks, Harry," said Lucy, hearing Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner.

"What? But why?"

"Don't ask questions! Just do it!"

Quickly wondering if this plan could possibly work, Lucy watched Harry take off one of his shoes, and pull of his slimy, filthy sock. She grabbed it, and stuffed the diary inside it.

"Don't say a word. Let me do all the talking," she told him. Before Harry could ask her what she meant, Lucy ran back down the dark corridors, and he reluctantly followed her.

They caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy," she gasped, she and Harry skidding to a halt. "We've got something for you–"

And she forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.

"What the–?"

Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry and Lucy.

"You'll both meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Potter's," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too."

He turned to go.

"Come, Dobby. I said, _come."_

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.

"Old Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Old Master gave it to Dobby."

"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"

"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Old Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby–Dobby is _free."_

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at the twins.

"You've lost me my servant, Potter's!"

But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry or Lucy Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry or Lucy Potter. You shall go now."

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the three of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"Harry and Lucy Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry and Lucy, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry and Lucy Potter set Dobby free!"

"It was all Lucy's idea, Dobby," said Harry.

"But it was your sock, Harry," Lucy reminded him. Then she turned to Dobby. "It was the least we could do, Dobby. Just promise us that you'll never try to save our lives again."

The elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told us all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, so–"

"It was a clue, sir, miss," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

"Oh," said Lucy weakly. "Well, Harry and I'd better go. There's a feast, and our friend Hermione should be awake by now…."

Dobby threw his arms around Harry and Lucy and hugged them.

"Harry and Lucy Potter are greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter, Lucy Potter!"

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

* * *

Harry and Lucy had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Harry and Lucy didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward them, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!" or Colin Creevey snapping away again on his camera, or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring each of their hands and apologize endlessly for suspecting them, or Hagrid running up at half past three, cuffing Harry, Lucy, and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle, or their's and Ron's six hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat ("Oh, no!" said Hermione), or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news.

"Shame," said Ron, helping himself to a jam doughnut. "He was starting to grow on me."

* * *

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences. Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled ("but we've had plenty of practice at that anyway," Ron told a disgruntled Hermione) and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place. On the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Lucy, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks, and practiced Disarming each other by magic. Harry and Lucy were getting very good at it.

They were almost at King's Cross when Harry remembered something.

"Ginny–what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you telling anyone?"

"Oh, that," said Ginny, giggling. "Well–Percy's got a _girlfriend."_

Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head.

"_What?"_

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," said Ginny. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them _kissing_ in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was–you know–attacked. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.

"Definitely not," said George, sniggering.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped.

Lucy pulled out her quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron and Hermione.

"This is called a telephone number," she told Ron, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. "Harry and I told your dad how to use a telephone when we were at your house last summer–he'll know."

"Call us at the Dursleys', okay?" said Harry. "We can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…."

As they headed out of their compartment, Hermione pulled Lucy aside.

"So," she whispered. "Would you like me to give this number to Malfoy, too?"

Lucy froze.

"W-what are you t-talking about?" she stuttered, her cheeks growing bright red.

Hermione smiled.

"You may be able to fool Harry and Ron, Lucy," she said, "but you can't fool me. I see the way you always blush whenever he's around, and you were very quick to defend him when we thought him to be the Heir of Slytherin."

Lucy sighed.

"Is… is it that obvious?" she said softly.

Hermione shook her head.

"No, I don't think anyone aside from me has figured it out yet. Or of the more important aspect."

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Lucy asked, puzzled.

"That it's possible that Draco Malfoy likes you, too," she said.

Lucy went as red as a cherry.

"Th-that's… that's im-impossible!" she squealed loudly, causing passerby's to stop and stare. "I-I mean, he h-hates me!"

Hermione shook her head.

"No, think about it, Lucy. If Lucius Malfoy was Dobby's _Old Master,_ wouldn't that technically make Draco Dobby's _Young Master?_ Dobby told you himself that he wanted to save you, not Harry. Why would he do that if he didn't _like _you?"

"B-because he thinks t-that I'm stupid?" Lucy half-heartedly said. "I heard him say so himself when Harry and I were in Borgin and Burkes that day in Diagon Alley."

Hermione smiled knowingly.

"Perhaps," she agreed. "But there is something else you should consider."

"What?"

"Did you notice that on Valentine's Day, when Pansy Parkinson was humiliating you over the dwarf giving you your valentine, that Malfoy was blushing, and trying to look anywhere but at you?"

Lucy's mind went blank. She stared down at her hand where the little ring was. She hadn't even thought about it until now.

"You… you think _he_ gave me this?" she whispered, showing her the ring.

"It's entirely possible…." Hermione said.

"Hermione! Lucy!" they heard Harry call out. "Hurry up!"

"We're coming!" Hermione shouted back. Then she turned to Lucy. "Don't worry, it'll be our secret."

They caught up to the others by the entrance to the train. Hermione carried on their former conversation as though nothing had happened.

"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" she said as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you two did this year?"

"P-proud?" said Lucy, trying to act normally again. "Are you crazy?"

"Yeah," said Harry, amused. "All those times we could've died, and we didn't manage it? They'll be furious…."

And together they walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world.


End file.
